


All the small things

by Ponderosa, suyari



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Anal Sex, Becketcest - Freeform, Bondage, Canonical Character Death, Double Penetration, Dragon Riders, Gagecest, Gender Identity, Hansencest - Freeform, Incest, Kidfic, Maiming, Multi, No Underage Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnancy, Rimming, Safeword Use, Sibling Incest, Soul Bond, Surrogacy, Tunaricest, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 64,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/suyari/pseuds/suyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck was nine years old when the world as everyone knew it changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> I'd just like to take a moment for some thank yous. To my wonderful Beta who stuck with me through this whole thing and read far more than anyone ever should be asked to. You are a treasure and I appreciate every last atom of you. To my dear friend who stayed up with me all night and listened to my frantic calls whenever I hit a bump. Who gently nudged and coaxed in equal measure when necessary, and who basically talked me down from ledges. To all my lovelies on Tumblr who put up with my constant ramblings and supported me through every single step. You are all a part of this and I could not have done it without you. And lastly, to my artist, together again! Two anonymous claims in a row and here we are again. Thank you for choosing me, for all the updates to follow your fascinating progress, and for a truly breathtaking piece. I couldn't have wished for better, and I'm humbled and honored to be collaborating with you once more. 
> 
> Written for the Pacific Rim Mini Bang. 
> 
> Fic by Suyari  
> Art by Ponderosa

Chuck was nine years old when the world as everyone knew it changed. It’s a day that’s become branded in his memory, so vivid and distinct he doesn’t have to ever actively recall it. He can still hear the sounds of insects buzzing about outside. The sounds of neighbors calling in the streets and dogs barking over the disturbance in the late hour. He can still feel the carpet runner beneath his feet and every squeak of floorboard as he descended the stairs. He barely made it to the living room fully conscious. Driven as all young things were to seek comfort in its parents when the air was thick with fear and tension. 

“Mommy? Daddy?” he’d squeaked, rubbing harshly at an eye in an attempt to focus. He wasn’t scared, not really. More nervous and in need of reassurance. 

“ _Chuck_ ,” his mother had gasped. 

But he’d been enveloped in warm arms by then and lifted clear of the floor. He can still remember the warmth of his father’s embrace and the strength of his arms. So sure about him as he held him close and carried him over to the couch to sit beside Chuck’s mother. Can still smell the military scent of washed and worn that clung to his father’s skin then. His mother’s hand stroking his back as she tucked up against them. 

“Herc…” she’d whispered, with what Chuck is now able to identify as fear. 

“It’ll be alright,” his father had replied, steady as ever. He’d given them both a squeeze then, wrapping his arm about his wife and drawing her into the circle of his embrace. “We’re going to be all right.” 

To Chuck then, in the middle of the darkness between night and the light of early day, that had been all there was to it. If his father said things would be all right, then Chuck believed him. He’d snuggled close, held protectively, and gone right back to sleep. 

He can vaguely recall the sounds of the Kaiju leveling San Francisco. Of its horrible roars and the firing of advanced weaponry. But then, his parents had often watched old movies after he’d been put to bed. And sometimes his mother would review her research, and dragons were as loud as anything Chuck had known until that moment. 

The next morning, he’d found - much to his surprise - that something all together new and alien had made landfall. His mother had been busy with calls all morning. As a groundbreaking Dragonologist, she was on the consult list to every major nation in the world. And it seemed they all found it of the utmost urgency and highest priority to call their house a day into the attack. 

His father had been dispatched. Called to base to be ready in case another came and attacked Australia instead. He’d kissed Chuck and his mother and squeezed them tightly, murmuring softly to his wife, getting her to promise like he always did. Chuck always knew, because she would look over at him before she nodded. As he got older, he learned to pretend he wasn’t paying attention, but it didn’t stop her from doing it at all. If anything, it gave her liberty to do it for longer stretches of time. So he always knew when it was serious. And it had been serious on that day. 

He’d watched the news coverage, wide eyed and in awe of the monstrous beast that trudged through one city and into the next. Given America had been the country invaded, they’d retaliated right away. 

Chuck watched explosions of weapons and aircraft, of cars and trucks and even a few tanks. He stared, transfixed as the kaiju, named Trespasser, completely leveled one of the most famous hill cities in the world. “Mommy,” he can remember asking at some point, a juice box clenched tightly in his hands. She tucked the phone at her ear back, chin jutting forward in the universal sign of attention, though Chuck barely caught the motion out of the corner of his eye. He’d been too busy with the Kaiju on the television screen. School had been cancelled. A curfew had been instated. Chuck had known none of this, beyond the fact that he’d been able to remain home with his mother and watch television. He hadn’t ever liked the news before that particular day, but he’ll freely admit, it had kept him in rapt attention for hours. “Are they gonna send Daddy to America?”

She’d politely excused herself, set the phone aside and crossed over to him to wrap both her arms about him and kiss him atop the head. “No,” she’d said, not sounding entirely certain, now that he knew better. “I don’t think they’ll send Daddy away. Not now.”

“What about Uncle Scott?” he’d asked, looking up at her. 

“No, pet,” she’d replied, stroking back his hair. “I don’t think they’ll send him either.” 

Chuck hadn’t been certain, as his father and uncle Scott were the two greatest men he knew, and people always wanted the best when they were in trouble. It was why so many people called his mother that day and for many afterward. Though he’d trusted his mother’s judgement and had gone back to anxiously following the live footage. And while they did not send his father or his uncle Scott to America, they did not come home for several days. 

Chuck, as a child, had been accustomed to his father missing certain key points of his life. Herc had been stationed in Afghanistan when Chuck graduated from Kindergarten. He’d been in Iraq when Chuck won his first swim meet. He had been midflight over the Atlantic when Chuck lost his first tooth. And he’d been in Hawaii when Chuck fell out of a gum tree and broke his arm. 

Every memorable first Chuck had, his mother was present, cheering him on, soothing the ache or comforting him gently. Every memorable first, distinctly lacking in his father’s presence. It wasn’t his father’s decision, he knew. If his father had been able to choose, well, there were times Chuck wondered if he’d chosen duty and obligation over family, but in general he knew his father’s spirit had always been with them. His heart had always ached to share in those precious moments, easily lost to time, never to return. 

And so, Chuck turned ten - an introduction to double digits, never to be counted among the single ones again - and his father had missed it. He hadn’t even gotten a call, as he had on occasions before, rare as even those might have been. His father had always at least _tried_. But then, so had his mother always insured he felt special and celebrated regardless. Which was how Chuck saw his first Dragon in real life. Trespasser was not letting up. Had left hundreds of thousands dead in its wake and every nation in the world wanted answers. Chuck’s mother had been spending every spare moment trying to get them those answers, with no luck. And not only had she worn herself down, but she had neglected Chuck in her own way in so doing. Not that Chuck could ever believe his kind, gentle, giving mother in all her selflessness and consideration could have ever willfully done so. He had been aware, even at so young an age, that she felt the slight had been made and had sought to correct it in the only way she knew could both soothe the perceived slight and yet maintain a professional air in her capacity as lead Dragonologist on the Trespasser Project. 

He’d been to the aerie before, but never inside the heart of it. His mother held his hand so as not to lose him - he had been a curious, adventurous, absolutely fearless child and she had known him well. It was better lit than he’d thought it would be, and not merely as a concession to the weaker sighted humans that worked there. The aerie itself was vast and open. A hidden valley within a sea of mountain cliffs. The dragons that lived there could move about freely, taking to the sky and setting down and moving all about with plenty of space to spare. He stood on the cliff face, looking down into the endless valley of green, blue and gold and very nearly cried for reasons he still cannot quite explain, save perhaps a feeling of being overwhelmed. His mother had kneeled down beside him and wrapped her arms around him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Chuck?” she’d said softly. He’d nodded, feeling his heart clench in his chest. 

“Mommy,” he’d said, tears in his eyes. 

“Yes, love?” she’d asked, stroking back his hair. She was looking at him, but he could scarcely look away from the wonder sprawling out before him. 

“I want to be like you when I grow up.” 

“Oh, Chuck,” she’d laughed, and tugged him close. 

When she tucked him into bed that night, after sharing with him every anecdote she knew - him absorbing them ravenously, as if having never heard a single one - he’d dreamt of wings in the sky. All bright colors and clean air, the wind in his face and the sun on his back and nothing but a dragon beneath him; all that saved him from a plummeting death, a friendship whose bonds were so strong, even the sky twinkled in acknowledgement. 

He’d woken the next morning and eagerly shared them with his mother, who listened with a kind smile, nodding in shared fantasy. And who hadn’t - not once - corrected him. That dragons were wild things, of their own mind and society. That he was but the latest in a long line of dreamers who looked up into the sky at dragons, hearts bursting with desire to know the joys they knew, only to be forced to content themselves with a life of patient study, in the hopes of silent acknowledgement. A career that lived in the dust of ancient works and the dirt of the mountainsides of the world. Cold nights spent in aged trees and long days unmoving in insect ridden fields. And every moment of it worth it. 

He’d spent the day in her office, coloring in pictures of dragons, trying to match the designs to the wash of colors he’d witnessed the day before. She’d spent it on the phone in front of her computer, discussing the Kaiju and trying to find a weakness for the resistance to exploit. 

Two days after Chuck turned ten years old, Trespasser reached a dragon aerie. Several dragons flew out to meet it, engaging it head on. The battle broke through the protective great wall of the aerie, and over the course of the day, the world watched with baited breath as the fierce engagement slowed it down. The first thing to do as such. But the dragons were focused only on protecting their home and their own, and many times what could have been a win was diverted by a dragon suddenly leaving the attack force, abandoning the effort and flying off elsewhere. 

Twelve hours after the attack had been launched and countered, Trespasser was dead. Slain and strewn across miles of aerie, but so too were countless dragons lost. As an endangered species, the world could not afford the loss, and a great mourning swept through the human race at seeing so many dead. The dragon dead joined the human dead in a great memorial, one telecasted and shared with the world. 

Chuck can still remember sitting in his father’s lap, wearing his Academy coat, the sleeves rolled up and pinned so he could attend the funeral in full military dress. His father had said nothing when he’d insisted, had merely retrieved the requested coat and helped him into it. He’d done his best to keep the emotion from his face, but Chuck now knows what ran through his mind as he dressed his ten year old only child in military uniform at Chuck’s fervent insistence. At the time all he had seen was a weight of human loss and a spark of service ignited in the heart of the brightest spot in his life. He fought so that Chuck wouldn’t ever have to, in the hopes of providing a future, if not war free, at least as safe as could be managed. And that future, and all hope of it had been torn from him and dashed to the winds. His son would be a soldier, a life he’d never wanted for him. And Herc would have to stand by and watch it happen. 

He’d cried when the dragons of the aerie had roared into the sky, their long necks stretched and wings extended. They’d watched anxious and stressed, impatient and uncomprehending. Watched their slain be carted off and carried away. Had watched them be mourned, and put to rest with all of the other victims. Their ashes spread to the wind, where they would forever be able to fly free, together. 

The dragons were restless for some time after that, and many feared they may leave, and never return. America began communications with other nations in the hopes of preserving the species, should they migrate on their own. After so severe a tragedy, the freedom of their natural species, in all its fallen splendor could not be denied. The dragons were granted full immunity - not that they could be forced otherwise, but it was the principle of the thing - and promised proper care wherever they ended up, whenever they chose to go. 

In a telling display of patriotism, the American dragons did not, in fact, take any liberty to leave. Stubbornly remaining, though a few began to fly further than the boundaries of the aerie, sweeping the coastline in careful readiness. Humanity began to feel safe again, with the unusual dragon patrols, and life moved on. 

Six months after the first attack, another came. And after a third. Until soon the military and the dragons could be seen alongside each other, working to keep the world safe from the invaders, who only arrived stronger, faster and more formidable than the last. 

It was Chuck’s mother who lead her fellows to formally approach the governments of the world. Leading conferences and attending symposiums to formally bridge the gap between the species. Until one day, the Jaeger Program was born. The first attempt was a sleek, silver dragon with bright blue eyes who had settled in - in apparent voluntary service - and waited around as humans ran about the military base trying and consistently failing to do anything of relevance. 

It was a young American Air Force Captain who managed to break through. His name was Captain Adam Casey and upon finding himself with similar time to kill between theories, had taken up leaning against posts and discussing everything from the banal repetitions present in his day to his life growing up on his family’s horse breeding estate, his hopes and dreams, and everything in between aloud in the dragon’s company. He did nothing but talk to the dragon as one would any other equal. Carrying on a conversation as if the silver beauty were responding, and anyone who asked the Captain about it received the same answer: “Oh, he understands all right,” he’d say with a grin. “More than any other creature I’ve ever held a conversation with.” He’d laugh, but he’d meant it. 

He’d also been right. For one day, while reading to the dragon, he’d been startled by a touch to his mind, and the dragon’s quiet response to a throw away comment he’d made on the narrative. Military personnel had found him standing in the dragon clearing, staring up at the dragon, wide eyed, and grinning clear to split his face. 

Not only were dragons vastly intelligent, they could communicate. The news set the world alight with anticipation. The scientific community into fits of apoplexy. And the military into full research and development mode. 

Unfortunately for the military, an attempt among the volunteers lead to Captain Casey’s death. The dragon, whom he’d affectionately been calling ‘Yukie’ slipped into a depression so deep, it brought other dragons into the military base in sympathy. Weeks slipped by and nearly everyone lost hope that ‘Yukie’ would communicate with anyone again. The other dragons seemingly responding to his distress, did not show similar voluntary spirits. 

Lieutenant Sergio D’onofrio, who had flown many missions with Casey and had been touring the facility at the time had seen ‘Yukie’ on base and had drifted over, separating completely from the group, which stopped immediately to watch. Yukie’s head lifted expectantly as he drew close, tilting slightly as soon as he was near enough. They’d stared at one another for long moments and then Sergio had laughed softly and said, “Yeah. He always was a bit of a careless idiot. But, that was part of his charm.” 

The Jaeger Program had been saved. 

Eventually it was discovered that dragons were each prone to attraction toward a certain type of consciousness. They could make out in a stadium’s worth of people a single person to whom they found worthy to speak and should the chance arrive, would do so, if they so chose. It was discovered that they most dearly enjoyed the companionship of fellow intelligent but emotionally driven creatures. They understood humanity in ways humanity did not yet understand itself, and they accepted humans as an equal, if smaller party. 

Extremely social, they preferred the call of more than one mind linked to their own, which was a promising development, as a team effort was the best means by which to coordinate complicated attacks. Like the co-pilots of the Air Force’s behemoths, the dragons preferred a pair of Rangers to a single one, so as to always have someone with which to communicate. But the deep bonds they formed proved permanent and lasting, and most detrimental to progress when harm came to a Ranger, as the dragons chose to honor their bonded Rangers lives over the lives of others. An unfortunate instinctive habit that had developed over the vast expanse of their long lives. 

Dragons had a true name. One which they only trusted to one or two humans in their lifetime, for the power it gave them over them. And they were very protective, both of the name, and those chosen to be honored with the knowledge of it. 

To keep things running smoothly, the dragons were given codenames, drafted for them from the scores of their real names and shorted by the Rangers to whom they presented them. ‘Yukie’ became known as Brawler Yukon, and after bonding with a scientist - Caitlin Lightcap - was the first dragon in the Pan Pacific Defense Corps.

Across the world, nations scrambled to try and form bonded pairs. But very few dragons came forward to subject themselves to the process. And so the Jaeger Academy was constructed as a means to draw many capable minds to be trained and exposed to the dragons in the hopes that they would find some to their liking. It soon became apparent that the bonds shared between two people affected the dragons perceptions and thus their choices. The deeper the bond of love and trust between people, the more likely they were to be approached by a waiting dragon. 

Chuck spent his time as his mother’s assistant. At her side daily whenever he could manage to wiggle away from the importance of his schoolwork - stressed by his parents, and not given much thought as to importance by himself. And at the aerie every weekend. Australia’s dragons were particularly hardy and far more approachable. His mother’s hard work and dedication eventually paid off when several dragons took it upon themselves to make her welcome among them. They didn’t speak to her outright, but they acknowledged her and shared secrets with her in their own quiet ways. 

Where they barely spoke to adults however, Chuck found all the dragons were particularly chatty when it came to him. No one knew whether it was his youth, enthusiasm, his status as his mother’s child, or some combination therein, but the more the dragons opened up, the more attention Chuck received. Though he didn’t need much company, not with his mother, her research team and an aerie full of friendly dragons who seemed to take great delight in his views of the status of the world.

He was at the aerie, playing in a dragon’s nest when Scissure lay seige. Australia hadn’t had a Jaeger force at that time, and had been taken wholly unprepared by the attack. Scissure plowed through Sydney and headed straight for the aerie. Chuck can still vividly recall the clutch of his mother’s hand as they ran. The spray of her hair as she looked over her shoulder. He could tell she would have given anything for the strength and speed to pick him up and run, even at that age, and there are yet moments where he finds himself consumed by grief that it had not in fact, been the case. For all of their sakes. 

A long, dark shadow had passed over them, a dragon whom he’d come to know better over the course of his life. But whom at the time had been only vaguely familiar in passing. It had attacked Scissure head on, and hadn’t relented, talons sinking deep to keep it from being thrown as it bit and slashed at the Kaiju with fang and tail. Others soon joined it, and Chuck can still remember the sound of choppers and fighter jets piercing the air as they descended to provide much needed assistance. 

They had taken refuge in the cave where the eggs were kept, the better to keep them warm and safe. As dragons and the RAAF fought to desperately keep the Kaiju away, Chuck’s mother had calculated the odds of the eggs survival and frantically called out into the valley. Others found their way inside and they all began scrambling around. 

“Turn around, Chuck,” she’d gasped at him, and he’d obeyed. His backpack was wrenched open and the contents fished out wildly, scattering about the floor. There was a tearing sound and then a heavy weight that nearly overbalanced him. The zipper was hurriedly closed and he was turned around again by his mother’s hands to his shoulders. He still has dreams about that moment. The look in her eyes, the grip of her hands, the trembling of the ground beneath them and the roaring of dragons and flash of weapons fire. 

“Do you remember the fissure-?”

“The one I’m not allowed to go exploring in?” he’d interrupted. 

“Yes,” she’d gasped, tears pooling. 

He’d nodded. 

“I need you to go there now.” She pulled him into the tightest hug he’d ever received in his entire life and kissed him atop the head. His hands curled into the fabric of her clothing reflexively and she stepped back, taking his face in her hands and kissing it all over. “You have to be brave, Chuck,” she’d said, the tears spilling. “Run. Go now!”

“But, Mommy-”

“Go!” she’d ordered. 

“No!” he’d shouted back. “Come with me!”

“I can’t. I can’t.” She wiped her face and crouched down to be more level with him, her fingers biting into his arms. “The dragons need me here. Who’s going to protect the babies?” 

As an adult, reviewing his memories, Chuck is able to realize the exact moment her resolve overtook her fear. Needing to protect her child with all the strength she possessed. His mother had always been the bravest person he knew. 

“And you have to help too,” she’d continued. “I put the egg in your bag. The one we’ve been waiting on to hatch?” 

He’d nodded in understanding. 

“The dragons need you too, Chuck. We’re all partners now. Will you be brave and protect this one little one for us? So we won’t have to worry over it in the evacuation.” 

His heart thus fortified, he’d nodded, and given no further thought to it. Turning on his heel, hands gripping the straps tightly and running as fast as he could for the fissure. He wonders sometimes, if he could go back, if he’d have looked back. Knowing it was the last time he’d ever see her, if he’d say goodbye. But he hadn’t known, and time travel does not yet exist. All he has are the memories.

They hadn’t found him for two days, but he hadn’t despaired. He’d taken off his backpack, settled down on the dusty floor in the crevice of rock and set the egg in his lap, wrapping around it tightly. The thin air had eventually lulled him into unconsciousness, which he was quickly woken from by the rake of talon to rock. Fresh air streamed in, and Chuck coughed, blinking at the rays of sunlight as they sprung to life against the rock face. 

_Chuck?_ came a dragon’s voice. _Chuck, we are here for you. Hold on a while longer, little one. We are here._

He’d pushed himself up, arms cramped and lifeless from being locked in the same position for days. As the rocks gave way, a snout pressed against the opening and warm air rushed over him. 

“Is he alive?! Is he there?! Chuck!!”

The dragon drew away, allowing his father to push his way forward. He reached in and pulled him out, holding him close. Chuck didn’t let go of the backpack. 

“Herc! Chuck!” 

A shadow cast across the sun and Chuck whined. His uncle’s hands dropped over him, taking stock. Chuck had never felt him tremble before. Not his fearless Uncle Scott. 

_Come,_ the dragon said. _Herc. Scott. Chuck needs medical attention. Shall we not go?_

Chuck can barely recall his first ride on a dragon. But even barely conscious he was aware that for the first time in his young life, he was experiencing a first with his father and it was his mother who was nowhere in sight. 

He spent a week in the hospital recovering, his backpack tucked close to his bedside. At first, no one had been aware of anything beyond the fact that his desperate desire to have it near was a product of shock and trauma. The doctors had insisted it be kept within sight to soothe and comfort him. It wasn’t until one night when they were trying to get him to eat his dinner that his uncle had accidentally knocked it over and upon reaching down to right it, noted the weight. 

Chuck and the egg were the only young survivors of the attack. Though had it not been for Lucky Seven’s intervention - or more pointedly her fierce protective instincts - the egg may have very well been taken away. Instead, as they could not be separated, they were lauded as a pair of survivors, likely to be friends their whole lives long. 

He hadn’t given any particular thought or attention to the news and well wishers. As soon as he’d been well enough, they’d explained to him that his mother was dead. His father and uncle Scott had ushered everyone out, save a tall, dark man in a blue official coat, who stood by the door. They’d explained to him that she had died saving the dragons, and that the dragons had saved them in return. Lucky bonding with them during the battle. They told him they were a Ranger family now, and had to move to Alaska in order to train with Lucky so they could join the Jaeger program and fight the Kaiju, so that no one would have to be hurt anymore. Chuck had nodded and wrapped himself around his egg and not spoken to anyone but dragons for a long time after. 

It was a simple thing to do, really, as dragons spoke mind to mind. 

They made the move, and Lucky kept his father and uncle assured of his well being. She was a comfort in the new place, the vastness of the Shatterdome. A touchstone he could run to when he was feeling overwhelmed, afraid, alone, or any other of a long list of things he simply could not stop feeling. He became a common sight the crews soon became accustomed to. Especially once Lucky made it adequately clear that Chuck was her little one, and that anyone who harassed or antagonized him would have to deal with a furious dragon over it. Which was only slightly worse than having to deal with her Rangers in defense of their family. 

Chuck’s birthday had been spent in hospital, and the weeks that followed it swallowed up by the move and training. But it had not been forgotten. There was no big celebration, in deference to his silence, but he’d been presented with a present that wiggled and was warm and which could love him unconditionally, with judgeless abandon. The first word Chuck said aloud post-Scissure was Max’s name. 

Chuck took great care of Max, and Lucky tolerated him on the basis that he was Chuck’s beloved pet, who brought him great happiness and comfort - and on the one occasion he had asked her, had informed him that there wasn’t enough of him to be appetizing. But, while Max kept him company, Chuck did not forget about his egg. It traveled around with him, tucked close to his body for warmth, and slept with him against Lucky at night. It was a curiosity to most of the ‘Dome, and they would stop by whenever he was polishing it to get a better look at it. 

Chuck’s egg however, soon became one of a few kept at the Shatterdome, as the Jaeger dragons had confided in their Rangers that newly hatched dragons were more likely to bond tightly to their Rangers, and more apt to be trained in fighting techniques which would provide better service for the cause. So Shatterdomes began to keep small nests of eggs, never more than two or three, and graduating Rangers began to find themselves gathered around them in wait. 

Chuck was eleven and sitting in the stands watching over his egg as a graduating class stood before the nest when it began to stir. He straightened in his seat, his heart in his throat. He wanted nothing more than to run over and scoop it up but knew better than to interrupt a graduation. Fear consumed him at the thought that his egg might hatch and bond to Rangers, to be sent away with them and be theirs forever. His hands gripped his seat tightly, and he rocked forward, holding his breath until his lungs burned, lip caught between fretful teeth. 

The cap of his dragon’s egg went flying, flipped free by a white tail. The egg canted sideways and crumbled slightly before bursting open. The little dragon shook itself off, took a few unsteady steps and flexed its wings. The graduating class of Rangers held very still as it blinked at them, then gave a little screech and turned around. It screeched again, hurrying in one direction and bowling over entirely - bits of dried plants and gravel sticking to its wet skin. It gave a distressed shriek, and Chuck couldn’t hold still any longer. Knowing he’d be in deep trouble, he launched himself down the bleachers and ran as fast as he could to the nest. 

His little dragon was flailing about miserably, and he climbed in after it, sliding down the side of the nest and picking it up. He picked the bits of debris that clung to its damp skin off, clutching it close to his chest. It made a noise at him, teeth on display as it craned its head back. Its head tilted and it blinked large gold eyes at him before inhaling deeply. It sniffed him twice, pressed its brow to his temple and proceeded to make a happy rumbling sound that Chuck was more familiar with hearing out of cats. It relaxed in his arms, gave a wide yawn and promptly dropped into deep sleep. 

Chuck climbed the nest one handed to odd looks from a few of the Rangers, and hopped down. He nodded at Stacker, whose mustache twitched slightly in lieu of a smile. Tamsin smiled at him however and gave him a thumbs up as he trotted off to go introduce the newest member of their family to Lucky. 

Young dragons, like most young creatures, were completely dependent upon their caregivers in their first year of life. And Chuck’s young dragon was no different. He wasn’t able to name it, because it was too young to explain its true name or to be properly sexed. But, it didn’t deter him in the slightest. Lucky was very happy that dragoning had become a family affair, though she had hoped for Chuck to take over in his father’s place when the time came. As dragons outlived their chosen partners, and when bonded so deeply, often kept company within the circle of their families for generations. But she wasn’t overly distressed, and if anything, was possibly a little smug that she and the dragonling kept frequent company and would for the rest of their long lives. 

As Chuck’s father, uncle, and Lucky were on active duty, they traveled the world with Chuck, Max and the dragonling in tow. And were quite the sight wherever they went. They were a curiosity and quickly became well known even by those not in the life, as young dragons were not a sight often afforded the public. 

Chuck’s dragonling at first, was hardly any larger than Max, and they would chase each other around, pouncing and running and quickly tiring themselves out. They were often found asleep in a heap of fur and scales somewhere underfoot. If Chuck tried to move them, they would wake and make unhappy noises, as he had to separate them and carry them one at a time to do so. So he took to sitting beside them whenever they had heaped themselves somewhere in the way, to better mark their place. 

As he was talking again, he found he rather enjoyed the topic of them, and would go on and on for hours with anyone who would listen. As time went by, however, the dragonling grew steadily larger and soon dwarfed Max in size. Its colors began to become more distinctive, and Chuck spent a lot of time grooming and stroking it to their mutual satisfaction. When it was about six months old, it began speaking. At first in short, disjointed sentences, that rapidly found fluency. By seven months old, his dragonling could speak seven different languages, absorbing them all from the crew and populace around them at various Shatterdomes like a thirsty sponge. And because it only spoke to Chuck and Lucky, Chuck began to find himself rather fluent as well. His schoolwork became increasingly easy, to the surprise of everyone involved, save Lucky who explained to her Rangers that when a dragon bonded from the shell, it shared everything it was with the individuals with whom it bonded. And as the dragonling was of exceptional intelligence and curiosity and Chuck of an accelerated maturity and engaging wit, they openly fed off of one another’s enthusiasm and collective talents. 

By twelve, Chuck could be found with the J-crew, learning every turn and weld necessary to both make and maintain dragon armor. And was capable of carrying on several conversations in multiple languages all at once, without losing a step of the process. His dragonling at his side, watching the process either with an intensity that had a tendency to startle newer staff, or with such indifference as to make no matter. By the time his dragonling was a year old, it could be found climbing the sides of posts, walls, buildings and anything vaguely upright and launching itself off them. It would glide around, before coasting to a landing, which at first it wasn’t very good at. Lucky’s crew learned to quickly dart out of the way when it came in for a landing, and the reflex to move out of the way kept long after it had gained steadiness. Which proved only to amuse it and it took to using them as target practice, tail swishing to tap them as it went by until Lucky scolded it. 

By thirteen, and two, Chuck’s dragonling outstripped him and was large enough to ride, though not with any guarantee of safety and not for very long. Still, they amused themselves with following Lucky and the elder Hansens around on sweeps to stretch their wings and do something together. It was upon one such return that they entered the Shatterdome to find a beautiful, streamlined blue dragon. She was all grace and majesty and Chuck was instantly awed by her. He’d never seen a thunder dragon before, and was keen to catch sight of her electrical abilities, but she seemed composed and serene. Clearly adored by her Rangers, who were nowhere in sight as Chuck and his dragonling closed the distance to go introduce themselves. 

“Hi!” Chuck called, waving. “I’m Chuck Hansen and this is my dragon. Welcome to Manila!” 

Gipsy Danger turned to look at them at being addressed and lowered her angled head by means of a long, slender neck. She inhaled deeply against Chuck’s chest and blinked at him in surprise. 

_You are the little one who was found in the fissure._

“That’s me!” Chuck replied, rocking back on his heels with a grin. He didn’t give two cares what humans thought of him. But every time a dragon recognized (and chose to speak with) him it brought a warmth to his chest. Most dragons had stopped speaking to him directly after he’d turned thirteen. Puberty setting in altering something in their perception of him. Most, if any, who spoke to him did so by the same means they had all agreed to when becoming active Jaegers. Through his dragon. His bond with his dragonling was so strong that Chuck rarely noticed whether a dragon was speaking to him directly or through it, but every so often, the directness of being spoken to mind to mind abruptly informed him of the courtesy he was being awarded, and filled him with a distinctive joy. 

_Is this the egg?_ she queried, snout turning on his dragonling. 

_I am,_ it responded, chest puffing slightly as it drew itself up into a more respectable position of strength and standing. 

_How fortunate you were,_ she commented.

 _How fortunate I **am** ,_ it corrected.

She lifted her head in what Chuck had learned was dragon amusement and regarded them. _Yes,_ she agreed. _That I can see quite clearly._

“Gipsy!” 

Her head rose, neck craning to better accommodate her in the space. _Yancy! Raleigh!_ She was - as most dragons were - most excited to have her Rangers in view, and eager to have them near her once more. _This is the little one from the fissure,_ she informed them. 

“Ah, engaging in a little hero worship, huh?” joked the older Ranger. 

The younger shook his head in mock disapproval. “Gipsy, you’re going to ruin our reputation.”

Her wings ruffled and folded in, but she didn’t seem offended. 

“Yancy Becket,” said the older Ranger, holding his hand out. 

“Chuck Hansen,” he replied, shaking. 

Yancy whistled. “Quite the reputation you have, kid.”

“Hi, I’m Raleigh,” the younger interrupted, taking Chuck’s hand and shaking it. “Don’t mind Yancy, he gets a little star struck.”

 _Boys,_ commented Gipsy. Chuck gathered from her tone this was a situation that happened often enough to warrant a distinctive one. 

“Everyone’s heard about you,” Raleigh explained. “The dragons won’t shut up about you.”

 _As well they should,_ his dragonling commented to no one in particular. 

Chuck could feel the flush rising and prayed to any higher power it wouldn’t make it to his cheeks. 

“That was a brave thing you did,” Yancy added.

“It wasn’t really,” he replied, uneasy. “I just did what I was told.”

“I wasn’t talking about the fissure,” Yancy said, leaning in and winking at him.

Chuck went scarlet. 

Raleigh laughed. 

Gipsy sighed, her sides heaving slightly and the gentle wind of her exhalation washing over them from above. 

They all looked up as Lucky towered into view. She lowered her head, and Chuck scrambled on, desperate to escape. 

“Nice to meet you!” Raleigh called, flagging an arm as Lucky made her apologies to Gipsy and took Chuck off to dinner. 

“We’ll see you around,” Yancy added, hands in his pockets.

Chuck’s dragonling bounded off joyously in Lucky’s wake. 

“Wait a minute…” he could hear Raleigh say. “Gipsy...Were you actually _talking_ to him?!”

 _It was only appropriate,_ she replied. 

But Chuck could only hear her through his dragonling, who was out of range and disinclined to follow the conversation any further. So he didn’t know why she thought so. 

_I think I’ve decided,_ his dragonling informed him that night, as they were all tucked in for bed. Chuck always had a bunk wherever they went, but he’d always been most comfortable with the dragons, and while he did find some uses for his room on occasion, his habit was to sleep with Lucky and his dragonling, and no one could sway him otherwise. 

“Decided what?” he asked, curious. 

_Start addressing me with male pronouns please._

“You can _choose_?!” Chuck replied, sitting up to stare at him. 

_Of course we can,_ he replied, wings flexing and folding into a more comfortable position. _We can be whatever sex we like until we breed. Then we’re stuck._ He didn’t sound terribly disturbed by the prospect however. 

“Oh.” He licked his lip and tried not to miss his mother in that moment, failing miserably. 

His dragonling curled about him, rumbling low soothingly and added, _I should know my name in a few months. I expect a good code name._

He’d meant to distract him, which Chuck was aware of, and yet, it worked. His mind was instantly running through a list of good matches he thought he should probably write down, to sort through when he was told. 

“Congratulations!” Raleigh Becket hailed him with, strolling over. “I hear he’s chosen.”

Chuck looked sideways at his dragonling, who puffed up in pride. “Thanks,” he replied awkwardly. 

“Did he tell you why?”

“Did Gipsy tell _you_ why?” he countered. 

Raleigh actually considered it, and shrugged. “She said it was practical.” He laughed, as if it was some great joke. 

“He said it was only appropriate.”

Raleigh raised a brow and looked to Chuck’s newly gendered dragonling. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Want to shoot some hoops?” 

Chuck found he enjoyed the Beckets company. They were easy to get along with, and a lot of fun besides. They weren’t all that much older than him. Enough that they were legal and he was...only a few months a teenager, but in ten years that sort of age difference didn’t matter, and he didn’t think it should when dragons were involved anyway. 

By the time the Beckets were deployed elsewhere Chuck was aware he had a bit of a crush. Which made the farewell a little awkward, but still amicable, given their combined personalities. Still, he found himself thinking of them often enough that his dragonling and Lucky noticed. Lucky was old enough to have tact, but his dragonling sauntered right up to him one day and said plainly, _You shouldn’t worry so, Chuck. You’ll get the chance to mate with them soon enough._

His father choked on his breakfast and uncle Scott quickly spit his coffee back into his cup so he could laugh without choking himself. Mortified, Chuck hadn’t responded. 

Lucky spoke to him about the incident, and he found Chuck later to apologize for embarrassing him. Chuck only barely lucked out when it came to the human side of the family. Herc had stammered through a sex talk that left them both ruffled enough to need to take stress relieving flights. Uncle Scott had handed Chuck a condom and a banana and told him to practice until he could do it two fingered in the dark. And informed him that once he could, he’d buy him a pack of his own. 

Determined, Chuck still hadn’t quite managed it until he was fourteen. Which, it later turned out, was the entire point. But, Uncle Scott kept his word and Chuck found a box of condoms in his bag a few hours after working up the nerve to tell him so. 

Chuck’s dragonling turned three and was finally a fully mature dragon. He was still young enough that he’d continue growing steadily, but he’d learned his name, in the secret, magical way of dragons and had informed Chuck of it. They’d turned up to register his codename the next day. 

Striker Eureka was a beautiful dragon. With a deep chest that was a raging inferno kept in check by a combination of physiology and will. The older he got and the more they practiced, the more controlled his firebreathing became. Chuck was well aware it made people nervous to have such a large, powerful dragon bonded to someone as young as he was, but he was determined to prove them all wrong. They both were. 

They had every intention of going to the Academy, unprecedented as it was. The simple fact remained, it was healthier and less stressful for a dragon to have a bonded pair of Rangers. Battling Kaiju took a lot of precision and care to attention and two Rangers could maneuver a dragon’s blind spots more easily than one, which was also twice as effective as a dragon alone. The paired Rangers would be trained in all forms of combat and weapons management together, and share the duty of caring for all their dragon’s needs. 

Every dragon had a crew, of course, as the work and expense of keeping a dragon was astronomical. But, when it came down to it, the most important needs of a dragon could only be met by a highly select few. And so that duty fell solely upon its Rangers. 

Striker, now an adult, was being tended to by Lucky’s crew, which had grown with them and could easily handle two dragons as well, if not better, than most crews could handle one. Yet, as he got older, Chuck could feel the beginnings of strain at the edge of his consciousness. Striker loved him deeply and there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for Chuck and vice versa, but there were _reasons_ dragons needed more than a single connection. The pull of their consciousness could be overwhelming, and as they got older, bordering on full maturation, Chuck began to get splitting headaches. Striker would coo at him and curl up about him and not let anyone near until he felt better. When Lucky was in, she would curl up with them, to better protect him. Eventually, unconventional or not, they made the trip to Academy. 

Chuck found - much to his displeasure - they were something of a legend there. Years of graduating classes speaking of the kid who’d been all but handed a dragon. The kid with the dragon. The kid raised with dragons. The only cadet with a dragon. And on and on it went. Chuck found the gossiping even more trying than keeping Striker’s consciousness aligned. Striker of course, was both no help at all, and all Chuck needed. He deliberately snubbed nearly the entire class. The only exceptions being a petite asian girl, and a lanky blonde with a too familiar smile. Mako Mori was the first, a legend in her own right and someone who could understand Chuck’s predicament. She was the only survivor of the attack on Tokyo by Onibaba and had been raised by Coyote Tango and her Rangers Tamsin Sevier (now retired) and Stacker Pentecost - the Marshall of the PPDC. If anyone had it worse than Chuck, it was Mako, and they became fast friends over their shared circumstances. The other, as it turned out, was Jazmine Becket. Younger sister of Yancy and Raleigh Becket, Gipsy Danger’s Rangers. 

Helpfully, while Jazmine resembled her brothers a great deal, her personality was more of a combined effort toward roping in her temper and minding her manners - a distinct departure from Yancy’s polite regard and Raleigh’s ability to find humor in everything. She also helped him solidify another aspect of himself - that he had no sexual attraction to girls. If anything, every time Jazmine smiled, she called to mind Yancy or Raleigh. And Chuck’s mind immediately drifted to pleasured thoughts of broad backs and angled jaws, and other parts women did not have, even if he’d never seen them before, and had to generalize his fantasies. 

Striker didn’t seem at all surprised when Chuck revealed the startling revelation to him. It wasn’t that Chuck had been raised to or even personally saw it as wrong. If anything, being exposed to so many cultures, including the unique world of Rangers, their crews and the populations of Shatterdomes, had given him a certain overall acceptance of divergent lifestyles. And while he felt _right_ about his conclusion, there was still something that ached in his gut when he thought that he’d never love a woman the way he would love a man. 

_It is because you feel unconsciously, that you will never have children whom will have the relationship you miss so dearly,_ Lucky explained one evening. 

The truth of it only made his chest burn and he rubbed at it despondently. Striker nuzzled him gently in support. 

_And it is not so,_ Lucky continued, lowering her neck so she could likewise nuzzle him. _You know this. And you will come to know it better in time._

 _It is a shame you cannot change the way we can,_ Striker commented. _You have not mated yet, there would still be plenty of time._

Chuck snorted, half amused, half disturbed. “Nah, Striker. I’d like to keep all my boy parts, thanks. If I don’t want to have sex with girls, why would I want to be one?”

 _So you could have sex with boys,_ the younger dragon explained.

Chuck was glad that no one could hear the dragon half of the conversation. As it was, he flushed darkly and scrubbed both hands over his face.

 _Chuck can have sex with males as he is,_ Lucky informed Striker.

Striker tilted his head and observed Chuck. In a display of youth he asked innocently, _Who will lay the egg?_ Dragons knew of course, from exposure to humans and other creatures the difference between gestational abilities, but dragon terminology was often their default standard and Rangers were as accustomed to translating it as the dragons were to the reverse. 

_They will seek the assistance of a female to do as such,_ Lucky explained, wings shifting. _Or they may take in offspring not of their blood, whom require their care and attention._

 _Orphaned?_ Striker asked sadly.

 _Mostly,_ she replied, clearly using the word’s more encompassing definition, unwilling to explain to a dragon as young as Striker that humans were not the pinnacle of dragon moral values. He’d bonded from the egg, and required a more delicate handling than an unbonded young dragon. 

_You should do that, regardless,_ Striker informed him gravely. _Are you old enough to do it now? I would like for us to have a little one around._

 _He is too young for his species to do as such,_ Lucky informed him. _And without a partner besides. You wish him to undertake young when he is still young himself, be kinder to him._ She used Striker’s full name and his wings unfurled in response. Dragons did not often address one another as so and it was an indication of shared intimacy and familial ties. 

Striker returned the kindness, adding, _He is not too young to mate though. I know this to be fact._

_In form, no. In all the rest, only Chuck can say as such._

Chuck could feel their eyes on him. It was only slightly less embarrassing than having the sex talk with his father. And mostly because he was the only one in range who could hear their conversation. 

_I shall miss you when you are gone,_ Striker confided after a long silence. _You will take a mate and have young in your life, won’t you?_

Chuck knew the importance of generational dedication to dragons. Lucky still spoke to him directly, and not through Striker, although she ought to by dragon’s own rules. But their’s was an unusual circumstance no matter which species one chose to view it from and he was as much her’s as he was Striker’s. As his father’s only child, and indeed the only child in the family, by dragon’s own bonding rules, he was to take their places in Lucky’s life after they died. As his children would after him. And due to the ties, his kids would be likewise bound to two dragons, if not more should the war continue on that long. 

He sat up, startled. Both dragons started in response, but neither took a defensive stance. Their reactions in concern for him. 

“You want me to have kids so you won’t be alone, right?” he asked Striker. 

_And for your happiness and the extension of your lineage. You are a fine example of all things I hold dear, and I would mourn greatly to see the world lose such a genuine treasure,_ he responded. 

“Are we your dragon hoards?” he asked suddenly. 

Both dragons raised their necks, heads angling to align with the motion. Chuck knew that to be a silent agreement. A signal of pride they exhibited whenever a human figured out another of the secrets they shared so willingly.

He grinned brightly. “I’ve never been anyone’s treasure before.”

 _Nonsense,_ Lucky countered. _You have always been a treasure. Long before you met us._

 _And you will be a treasure long after you leave us,_ added Striker. 

Both dragons suddenly ruffled, as if reminded of Chuck’s mortality and clambered closer, curling about him in a pair of rings. Striker about Chuck and Lucky about Striker, both of their heads resting in the space on either side of him. He stroked their noses to calm them. He had no intention of not honoring them to the best of his ability. 

“But, your hoards, our families, does it have to start with one individual?”

 _I do not understand what you are asking,_ Striker replied. 

Chuck swallowed down his excitement and turned to face him. “You would accept my son and speak to him if I had one, right?”

_Son or daughter, it makes no difference, but yes._

“The way Lucky does.”

_Yes._

Lucky made a noise that in a human might be termed an Aha moment. 

Her tail curled in near them and she stroked along Chuck’s back with it. The tip was highly poisonous and it was a sign of her deep affection for him that so dangerous a thing would never cause him the slightest harm. 

“Could you bond with my dad then?”

Striker tilted his head, as if considering. Then answered, _It would not do. Hercules is Lucky’s._

 _I would share him with you,_ she responded. _As you share Chuck with me._

 _It is your right to share Chuck, as by right he should be your’s._ His legs gathered under him, his bulk shifting in discomfort at the reminder. 

_It is so,_ she agreed. _Yet this is not the first time, nor do I believe it shall be the last that Dragons share the lineages of their dear ones. After all, when Chuck is to mate, will you not also be sharing his children?_

Striker made a noise of agreement, and Chuck wondered at their meaning. But things were progressing, his idea taking root in Striker’s mind, and he didn’t want to damage it by distracting him. Instead he added, “You already don’t like anyone in my class.”

 _I enjoy the company of two of your classmates,_ he responded indignantly. 

“But not enough to _talk_ to them,” he countered. 

Striker’s tail thrashed, as if it was an insult, but he didn’t respond. Max barked and began chasing Striker’s tail around, and the dragon calmed significantly, beginning to play with him by continuing the motion. 

_No,_ he agreed after a while of leading Max on a merry chase. _Not as such._

“So with Lucky’s permission-” He nodded to her and she nodded back. “And through the dragon loophole of direct lineage, him being my dad and all, do you want to try?”

 _I do have a fondness for you progenitor,_ he admitted. 

Chuck bounced up and held up both hands, his eagerness to see it done causing excitement to thrum through him. “I’ll go get him! We can do it now, right?!”

 _Yes,_ Striker hedged and Lucky agreed. 

They lifted their tails and necks and he darted naturally between them. He ran as fast as he could, hoping that Striker wouldn’t change his mind in the interim. It took a while to find him, and when he did, he was in LOCCENT with the Marshall, Uncle Scott, and half a dozen other people. 

“Dad!” he shouted, as the doors burst open. Everyone turned to look quickly, in the sudden readiness of an amassed military branch. 

His father’s brow furrowed in instant concern. 

“Chuck, what are you doing here? You should be in bed.”

The Academy had strict rules about the conduct of its cadets which Chuck regularly flouted. He only got away with it because of Striker. His dragon needed him and they needed his dragon. Chuck could probably get away with everything short of murder, and even then it was likely debatable. 

Chuck grabbed him by the arm as soon as he was in range and tugged. “You need to come! You need to come right now!” 

Uncle Scott was out the door first, but only because no one had hindered his movement. Chuck, his father, the Marshall, his partner Tamsin, and several others they picked up along the way - surgeons and J-crew all in a flurry - followed. 

Lucky and Striker looked up at the commotion. Lucky quick to assure Scott, who was standing before her full body atremble, that she was ‘Quite all right.’ and that he ‘Needn’t worry so.’ She nuzzled him, and Chuck’s father, whom Chuck was dragging by the arm, back between the dragons. 

Uncle Scott climbed up Lucky’s side, walking along the ridge of her spines, and sat between her shoulderblades to watch. The rest of the amassed group had to wait on the other side of the dragons’ combined bulk, for risk of insulting them and causing an incident. 

“Tell him!” Chuck gasped, looking up at the pair of dragons looking down at him. “Tell Dad what you said!”

Realizing that another dragon secret had been revealed, the Marshall snapped off orders. Coyote Tango came lumbering over, happy to see her Rangers. She couldn’t fly any longer - not for long distances at any rate - due to Onibaba’s near severing of her left wing. But with Tamsin - who had also been injured and bore wicked scars across the back of her head that she kept her hair short to display proudly - and Stacker still useful to the PPDC and Stacker still in service, she was kept at the Icebox, where she would be most comfortable. Occasionally, Chuck would see Mako with her, and they would nod to one another from opposite ends of the dragon pens. 

Lucky informed Herc, mind to mind, relaying the exchange to him in rather more detail than Chuck would have liked. Because she was communicating Dragon to Ranger solely, the only ones who could hear her were her Rangers, and Chuck for his blood ties. It was always odd to drift with them - the term given to explain the complicated process of mind melding between a Dragon and their Rangers. Lucky didn’t do it often, because it was so overwhelming, but whenever she felt a family affair was to be kept among family, Chuck ended up included by nature of their relationship. It always made him dizzy. 

Uncle Scott let out a low whistle of astonishment. “Don’t suppose I count,” he sighed. 

_No,_ Lucky replied, nuzzling him affectionately. _Unfortunately for you, you are all mine._

“I’ll endeavor to make peace with it,” he drawled, clasping the side of her immense jaw and nuzzling back. 

_You could always have children of your own,_ she supplied. 

“One of me is more than enough, sweetheart,” he teased, kissing her snout. 

Chuck had sat against Striker’s side, Max curling up in his lap. He idly stroked him as he came out from the ordeal more slowly than the experienced members of their family. His father was looking at Striker, who gazed right back at him. 

“And you’re okay with this?” he asked finally. 

Striker tilted his head as he observed him, then leaned in and nosed him. Herc - used to such bowling affection - merely rocked with the motion. 

_If you are,_ Striker said, addressing him directly. 

Herc blinked in surprise.

Outside the ring of dragon bodies, the group went very still. 

_Oh,_ said Coyote. _I do suppose that’s best._

As Stacker and Tamsin pressed her for answers, Chuck’s father reached out and stroked Striker over his muzzle affectionately. “Thank you,” he told him gently. 

_Thank Lucky._

“Thank you, Lucky.”

_You are most welcome, Herc._

Chuck had never heard her so pleased. 

The news spread like wildfire and by the time Chuck walked into the Kwoon the next morning, he’d already been nearly mobbed twice. One incident had been so severe in crowd that Striker, who had been out for a lazy morning flight had come tearing out of the sky with a roar. Cadets surged out of the way - dragons always had the right of way - unintentionally leaving Chuck alone in the open courtyard. Striker had slowed as he approached the ground, satisfied with the reaction. He landed, flexing his wings and throwing his head back to release a stream of white hot fire that left a thick cloud billowing overhead. 

“I don’t think your dragon likes anyone,” Jazmine had commented from where she’d been leaning against a pillar not too far from him. 

Chuck had stroked Striker’s nose and murmured softly to him. “Dragons are just protective,” he’d informed her, as if it were an uncommon fact. 

“Perhaps no one should crowd you further,” Mako had suggested loudly. 

Chuck had laughed. 

“Oh _great_ ,” Jazmine groaned, raising a hand to rub at her temple. Her palm nearly covered her face as she did so, and she turned slightly. 

Chuck looked up and felt his heart skip a beat.

“Why did it have to be my _brothers_?” Jazmine moaned. “Why couldn’t it have been the Gage twins?!”

“Because your brothers are highly skilled Rangers with the current highest kill count. And their celebrity will keep cadets interested and involved,” Mako answered diplomatically. 

“Because your brothers are hot as fuck and I for one want to get pinned to the mat and crushed by the both of them,” answered a cadet to their left. 

Chuck admitted to himself he most definitely agreed. He wondered suddenly if his pants were loose enough to keep from broadcasting the issue and wished he’d had more warning to better prepare that morning. 

Yancy Becket was the epitome of professional throughout the introduction of guest instructors to the Academy. Raleigh smirked the entire time, eyes on his sister as if taking great delight in ruining her day. She stared back at him with varying levels of outright glower. They began by performing for the group, to introduce a physical example of drift compatibility. The Becket Brothers were notorious for the strength of their neural handshake and it showed in every movement of their bodies as they circled and parried, working up enough of a sweat to radiate heat as they began to move throughout the group doing forms along the mats in neat rows. They corrected and guided, and while many people deliberately messed up so they would notice them and move to correct them, Chuck was among the group that stuck to uncompromising their abilities, and let their performance do the speaking for them. Chuck had his pride after all. That and the fact that he would quite literally _die_ of embarrassment if one of them touched him and he sprang wood right there in the Kwoon amid his entire class. 

After class, Jazmine approached her brothers to confront them over their presence. 

“We’re not doing it to deliberately antagonize you, baby girl,” Yancy soothed. “We’re back in Alaska for the foreseeable future.”

“We didn’t even put in a request,” Raleigh continued, hands up in surrender. 

“We received orders and we obeyed them,” Yancy added. 

Jazmine snorted, unplacated. 

“Alright, alright,” Raleigh drawled, wrapping an arm about her shoulders and tucking her close despite her sudden outraged cry and shoving hands. “Will you shut up about it if we let you come visit Gipsy?”

Jazmine stilled, and Chuck found it somewhat odd to be on the outside of things. For once, uncomprehending the bonds between a dragon and their family. To have visiting the dragon be a balm, a _reward_ was inconceivable. Even when it had just been Lucky and his egg, his father and Uncle Scott had never once not allowed him to be in the dragon’s pen whenever he liked. As long as he wasn’t underfoot, they’d allowed him to come and go as he pleased. He supposed however, for someone in the position of Jazmine and her brothers, the situation was different in innumerable ways. As Yancy and Raleigh Becket had graduated Academy with the reward of a newly hatched dragon whom they then raised on their own. Limited to what knowledge was issued by the PPDC and perhaps what Gipsy herself had allowed. Which Chuck knew from experience was very little, as young dragons tended to ask more questions than they gave answers. 

“-can’t believe they actually attracted a dragon,” Jazmine was saying and Chuck mentally shook himself free of his wandering. “But!” She slapped each on the back, youngest to oldest and leaned in between them proudly. “They did! Gipsy was so cute when she was a baby!” She made a gesture with her hands, indicating the approximate size and shape of the lovely dragon’s younger form. “Like a little cat!”

Raleigh rolled his eyes and Yancy sighed, but it was all good natured sibling interaction. Something Chuck (and Mako) could only recognize from second hand observation. 

“How old was she when she first spat lightning?” he found himself asking. 

The Ranger reaction of Dragon Pride was instantaneous. Their whole bodies seemed to shift, their demeanours overtaken by their love for their dragon, and the chance to speak of her. 

“She was always something of a magnet,” Yancy said. “Even as a dragonling.”

“She used to shock the hell out of us!” Raleigh added, with a happy laugh. “At first we thought if we removed everything that could cause static build up, we’d be okay. We ripped up carpets and traded in the couch-”

“They made a _mess_ ,” Jazmine interrupted. “The house was in ruins for _weeks_. It still is! All concrete and wood plank, like a barracks.”

“Got you prepared at least,” Raleigh countered, ruffling her hair in a way that was apparently a tried and true means of annoying her. 

“At any rate,” continued Yancy. “It didn’t help.”

“Not in the slightest,” laughed Raleigh. 

“Laundry would stick to her, outlets would fry, once, she even managed to make toast by playing too close to the toaster.”

“Which she then ruthlessly murdered after it scared the hell out of her when it sprang free and she reacted with a full surge across her tiny scales.”

“In her first year?” Chuck asked, amazed. 

They both thought about it, brows furrowing slightly. Yancy’s fingertips drummed against his thumb in silent count as Raleigh’s hands made measurements from memory. 

“Yeah,” he finally said. 

“Pretty sure,” Yancy agreed. 

“Before six months?” asked Chuck, fascinated. 

Raleigh bit his lip and Chuck was suddenly struck by how _plump_ they were. He tried to look at Yancy instead, but his mouth was curved in thought in a way that just made Chuck want to grab him by the back of his head and kiss it. So he looked at Jazmine and slowly regained control of himself. If nothing else, her shoulderlength blonde hair was jarring enough to not be mistaken as anything too similar to her brothers. 

“I _think_ so,” Raleigh replied, drawing out the word as he looked to his brother. 

Yancy nodded, and the movement made his adam’s apple sway hypnotically. “Probably,” he agreed. 

“Why? Was Striker breathing fire that young?” asked Raleigh, turning the conversation around. 

“Nah,” Chuck replied, shaking his head. The topic of Striker and his development easing the tension in his body. “He didn’t really show much by way of abilities until after he was two.”

They both raised their brows. 

“That’s a bit late, isn’t it?” Yancy asked. 

“Not for fire breathers, no.” He touched his throat and ran his hand down until he stroked over his breastbone. “There’s a whole internal system that has to be developed, and some required maturation hormone to jump start the ignition process. Which Lucky says is important for fire breathers because there’s a certain degree of responsibility that comes with the more destructive abilities and it’s best they understand the consequences of fire breathing before simply setting everything on fire just to watch it burn.” 

They all nodded in understanding. 

“How hot can he burn?” Raleigh asked. 

Chuck sucked his lower lip into his mouth as he considered. “He’s still young,” he pointed out. “But, Lucky says that by the time he’s fully grown - in a few more years - he should be able to spit plasma, which will melt the Kaiju clear through on contact.”

Stunned silence surrounded him, and it took him a moment to realize it, looking around at the suddenly large group of cadets that had been listening in. Yancy and Raleigh looked impressed. 

Raleigh clapped him on the shoulder. “Feed him _everything_. Feed him Jaz, if you have to, she’s a spitfire.”

Jazmine punched her brother in the arm. From the solid sound of the connection, Raleigh was built like a dragon cave. Chuck looked to see if she’d shake the hand out, but Jazmine clearly had experience with physical altercations with the older Beckets, and simply tucked her hand in her pocket. 

“No wonder Gipsy’s all aflutter,” Yancy teased. “That sort of power doesn’t come around very often.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow at the comment, but his question was interrupted by Mako asking one of her own. “Is it not common among fire breathers?”

The Beckets cocked their heads, in opposite directions, but in perfect synchronicity. 

“Well, that depends,” Raleigh replied. 

“On what?” asked Jazmine. 

“On where they come from,” interjected Yancy. “Fire breathers aren’t as common as fairytales would have you believe. And it takes a certain...climate.”

“Hot as fuck,” Raleigh expanded. 

Yancy gave him a withering look. 

Jazmine laughed. 

“Dragons live in aeries now,” Chuck explained. “But, they’ve crafted them to benefit all the breeds co-existance.”

“Crafted?” echoed Jazmine. “I thought no humans were allowed in…” She seemed to recall whom she was talking to and didn’t finish. 

Chuck shook his head. “The dragons craft them themselves. When a certain number of them band together, with different abilities, it only really takes about a decade or two to get the aerie the way they want it. And most aeries were in place long before our grandparents were born. Dragons foresaw a cohabitation issue with humans and staked claim to the spots they wanted before we could reach them.” He shrugged. “Probably not a person in the world can remember an aerie just cropping up. They’ve had them in place for a long time. And people just accepted it and settled around them - which was the entire purpose from the start.”

There had been some exceptions, of course. Attempts by people who sought power over all living things and saw the dragons as a challenge. There would always be those kinds of people, but with the world in the state it was in, Chuck figured it would never have quite the same dangerous edge to it that it’d once had. There would be legions of humans on the dragons side in a few generations, if not the entire world. 

People were staring at him again, some in ways that would have made him uncomfortable, if Yancy and Raleigh weren’t smiling at him the way they were. He raked a hand through his hair and shrugged, stuffing both hands in his pockets so no one would notice them shaking. “Fire breathers manifest differently,” he added after a swallow to manage the emotions swirling in his gut. “But, Striker’s of a line that once slept in volcanoes. He could probably roll around in the molten core of the planet and be happy. He was always really warm to the touch, come to think of it.” The last comment was for the Rangers among them alone. As if answering their earlier question belatedly. “Even as an egg.” Which had probably accounted for his survival - two days in a dark, dank fissure curled about it unconscious. 

He started at the grip against his shoulder and looked up into Yancy’s concerned eyes. He flashed a quick smile of reassurance, banishing the memory somewhere it couldn’t reach him. Of course, the change in him had called Striker to him subconsciously, and the dragon roared so loudly, the floor trembled. 

“Come on,” Raleigh said, throwing an arm about his sister’s shoulders. “Gipsy’s outside.”

“That was Gipsy?” Mako asked, astonished. 

“No, that was Striker,” Yancy replied. “But, Gipsy’s with him.”

“Come on, Chuck,” Raleigh said, already a few steps ahead with Jazmine. “You know he won’t calm down until he sees you.”

Chuck sighed heavily. They were having a bad day. “The Marshall’s gonna have my hide after today,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll speak to him,” Mako soothed. 

“Need a lift back?” he asked. “Striker can hold two now.”

She smiled. “Thank you. That would be most kind.”

Striker and Gipsy were in the courtyard. He was clearly agitated, wings spread wide and tail thrashing. Dark plumes of smoke coiled from his nostrils and his gold eyes flashed with the promise of violence. Gipsy looked entirely regal, as composed as she was beside him. Her bright blue scales glimmering like moving water in the sunlight. 

“Gipsy! You planning to get us court martialed?” was Raleigh’s greeting as they exited the building. 

_I thought it would be best to keep Striker company,_ she reasoned, looking sideways at the irate younger dragon. 

“Oi!” Chuck told him, and was nearly flattened by Striker’s snout as it met his chest. His arms went about it reflexively, feet lifting clear of the ground. Striker tossed his head back in one swift motion and Chuck landed on his back. “Calm down,” he soothed, dropping his legs over either side of the base of his dragon’s thick neck. All the motion ever really did was spread his legs wide, and set his feet against the hollows between strong muscles and sinew. But it relaxed Striker all the same to feel him so solidly. Chuck dug his feet in and Striker’s muscles gave a quiver before he rolled his shoulders. “Nothing happened,” he assured him, dropping forward to stroke over his scales. 

Striker surprised him by opening to him fully, drawing him into a drift unprepared. Chuck could vaguely feel his father, as his mind was assaulted suddenly by sensations. Memories, emotions, and sensory impulses washing through him quickly. He felt himself pulled by the current and instinctively tried to fight it. He trusted Striker, but the new and untested connection of their minds rolled him over until he couldn’t tell himself apart from anything else within it. He heard the boom of a roar, and shouts. And then hands were on him, turning him over and holding him down. 

“CHUCK!” someone yelled in his face. “CHUCK!”

“STAY WITH US, KID!!”

“CHUCK!!”

“CHUCK!!”

The world was trembling, as if an earthquake had overtaken them. And Chuck was at a loss as to the reason no one else seemed to notice. 

_CHUCK! CHUCK!_ Striker’s voice echoed in his head. _CHUCK I AM HERE!_

Fingers pried his mouth open. “He didn’t bite his tongue,” someone rasped, relieved. 

“Let’s get him on his side.”

Chuck knew the sounds of wings well, and could tell from the angry roar that Lucky had just landed. Striker hissed back, but Chuck could feel the remorse drifting free of him in waves. 

Booted feet clambered over, his father and uncle taking the place of the Rangers who had been tending to him. The Beckets, he belatedly realized. 

“Fight later!” Uncle Scott snapped. “Lucky, we need to get him to medical **now**!”

Chuck felt his body lift free of the ground, in a solid hold that he recognized from long ago. The memories surfaced again, and he jerked in pain. And then they were in the air. 

He must have lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking up at a hospital ceiling. His whole body ached as if he’d been electrocuted. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, all dry dead weight. He swiped it across his lower lip - more slowly than he’d anticipated - and pain shot up to burn white hot behind his eyes. He coughed, rolling over to throw up, but all that happened was a slight jerk of his body in one direction and his stomach promptly twitching until he thought it’d fall clean out of his side. 

“Hey,” a rough voice greeted. “Don’t try to move.”

Chuck groaned, a sound that indicated ‘too late’ and the owner of the voice laughed softly, a warm, rich sound. Hands reached for him, making light contact, and directing him with gentle pressure until he was more comfortable. The sound of water was almost too loud for him to take, as it was poured into a glass at his bedside. The mattress dipped and he was drawn up against a warm chest, directed back into it - not that he could have done anything but slump into it with all his weight, given the way his body was absolutely refusing to cooperate. The lip of the glass met his and they parted with great effort. Water was poured in slowly, allowing for a steady trickle to meet the back of his throat and be swallowed. As they went, it became easier, but the effort alone was herculean and left him more exhausted than anything. 

The door opened, and someone asked, “How’s our patient?”

“First Drift lag is a bitch.”

“Solo drift lag can be crippling.”

“That explains the sexy pajamas.”

There came the sound of flesh meeting flesh, and the body he was propped up against vibrated with amusement. 

"How're you feeling, Chuck?" asked the new voice.

Chuck groaned. A cool hand brushed his brow and he closed his eyes, relaxing further into the warm body behind him. The hand moved, cupping his cheek, then touching his throat. “I think he’s a bit warm,” the new voice went on, before pressing lips to his forehead. Chuck’s insides fluttered at the brush of skin and he swallowed at the unfamiliar feeling. “Feel him, Rals.”

“He’s in my lap, Yance, I can feel him just fine.” 

Slow dread ratcheted sharply into stark realization and Chuck’s stomach rolled for entirely new reasons. A hand rested against his temple, lips pressing to it after a moment. “Maybe a bit,” Raleigh agreed. 

Chuck’s lungs seized in his chest. Did that count? Had he just been kissed by Yancy _and_ Raleigh Becket?! 

“I’ll go get the doctor.”

He must have made a noise, because the bed dipped again, this time from the other side. “Chuck?” Yancy queried softly. His warm breath drifted across feverish, oversensitive skin and Chuck shivered. “You okay, kiddo?”

He felt his stomach drop out. Right...Right. It hadn’t counted at all. His chest hurt suddenly and he curled in on himself weakly. 

“Better get the doctor,” Raleigh urged, and Yancy’s touch to Chuck’s arm was a butterfly’s kiss, as he got up before fully connecting. 

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” Raleigh assured him in what Chuck supposed was meant to be comforting. The reminder that he was so much younger only made it _worse_. Raleigh’s arms about him only a small concession in the laundry list of his own faults. 

Striker was apologetic to the point of being very nearly aggravating by the time Chuck had recovered enough to be able to leave the hospital. He’d wanted to be sprung a lot sooner than the doctors had allowed. And a combination of hurt feelings, rejection, loneliness and boredom had made him short with everyone. The longer he’d been confined, the worse it had gotten, until he was very nearly acting the child he presumed the Beckets saw him as. 

The moment he’d been released, he’d stalked to the dragon pens and climbed under Lucky’s forelegs, curling up under her bulk, much like an egg in need of warmth. Lucky had crossed her forelegs at their lowest joints and brought her long neck down. Wings folding up and head resting inward where she could inhale his scent. 

She’d let him sulk until she felt he needed feeding, then promptly ratted him out to his Uncle. Uncle Scott, however, was the coolest person Chuck had ever had the good fortune to be related to. He’d gone to the canteen and brought Chuck back a sandwich and contraband soda - his doctors were restricting his sugar intake. Chuck had eaten in the safety of Lucky’s shadow and then curled back under her to sulk some more. 

Striker returned and paced, circling Lucky and appealing to Chuck in increasingly desperate pleas until she’d snapped at him. He’d backed off and curled up across from her, giving them ample space. He didn’t lower his head or take any rest, gaze focussed on the space he knew Chuck to be until Chuck couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I’m not angry with you,” he admitted quietly, climbing out from beneath Lucky to sit again. He held out an arm and Striker’s long neck lowered his head in relief. His eyes closed in bliss as Chuck stroked him below the jaw. 

_If you aren’t angry with me,_ he hedged after several minutes of soaking in his Ranger’s presence. _Then why are you so upset?_

Chuck’s head dropped back and he ended up looking up at Lucky, who was looking down at him. “My heart hurts,” he said quietly, barely audible. But dragon hearing was superb and Striker ruffled in sudden alarm. 

_You should not be here!_ he protested. He sounded convinced, regardless of the misery it would cause him to be kept from Chuck again. 

The use of his full name brought his attention to Lucky and once she had it, she lowered her head, the curve of her snout nuzzling Chuck gently. _It is a deeper hurt,_ she explained. 

Striker looked to Chuck with genuine pain in his golden gaze, which quickly flashed with anger. _Tell me who it is and I will make sure they never do it again!_

Chuck just shook his head, closed his eyes and dropped back into the curve of Lucky’s body. The dragons spoke quietly above him in movement and the stretch of time. The meaning conveyed, two heads lowered to rest on either side of him, and soon they were all asleep. 

“Bend your knees more,” his Uncle called up at him and Chuck sank lower and nearly toppled over. His father caught him just above the elbow and resettled him. 

“Like this,” he said and leaned slowly, but deeply in one direction, then the other. 

Chuck felt like an idiot. 

“Good,” his father said. “Just like that.”

“WINGS UP!” Uncle Scott ordered and Striker obeyed. They were in serious training now, and it could only be overseen by other pilots. 

Chuck wobbled, throwing both arms out to keep his balance. 

“Relax your arms.” His father shook his own arms slightly. “Keep your back straight. You lean into dragon turns. Brace your feet and slide them on every other wing beat to keep steady.”

 _Can we go up now?_ Striker asked in earnest. 

“Not until your Rangers can both seat,” Uncle Scott replied. 

Lucky, curled up and watching to the side, was close enough to keep him within hearing range. 

“I feel stupid,” Chuck grumbled, harness jangling slightly as his thighs bumped the leather straps on either side of him. 

_You are not stupid,_ Striker protested. _So you needn’t feel like it._

“It feels stupid at first, because it’s unnatural,” his father explained. “You’ll get used to it.”

“It’s easier in drift,” Uncle Scott said, glaring back at his father as he was glared at. “You can’t put it off forever. Herc, you’re trying to teach him how to ride a bike before he can even stand. It’s not going to work and you _know_ it!”

Chuck blinked at his father. “Are we supposed to drift first?”

“We don’t have to-”

“ **YES.** ”

His father looked to his uncle, jaw twitching in anger. “Plenty of people-”

“If I have to hear this bullshit one more time-!”

Lucky made a deep, sharp noise and they both stopped. 

“Dad,” Chuck sighed, appealing to the Ranger in him. “I’m not afraid-”

“I never said you were!”

 _I am not afraid. Lucky told me you must first be prepared. Are you prepared, Chuck?_  
“Yes.”

_Are you prepared, Herc?_

“Yes!” Uncle Scott answered for him. 

His father sighed and nodded, Striker having turned his head to look back at them where they were harnessed on opposite sides between his shoulderblades. Herc on the right and Chuck on the left. 

_This time it will not hurt!_ he informed Chuck with all seriousness, and just a touch of glee. 

Chuck braced himself, but it wasn’t as chaotic as he’d thought. In fact, it felt _amazing_! He could feel every muscle in Striker’s body. The heat from his incendiary gland a warm weight in Chuck’s gut. He blinked, seeing the world in a stark array of colors, the likes of which he couldn’t have even imagined before that moment. He looked to his father, who was looking at him with some concern but seemed to be lacking the sheer wonder of it all on his face. 

“Is it always like this?” he asked eyes drifting over everything excitedly. Color and scent swirled all around them, alight in the air and stretching across the empty spaces in long, elegant wisps. 

“Yeah,” Uncle Scott replied with a laugh of happiness. “Isn’t it great?” 

_I am being fitted for armor today!_ Striker greeted him several weeks later, near vibrating in delight. There were a few dozen people, a handful of ladders, and bits of ramshackle scaffolding precariously balanced all around him. 

Chuck frowned. He didn’t recognize most of them, beyond a few scattered here and there who were members of Lucky’s crew, and likely present as moral support. 

_We have our own crew!_ he added in excitement, wings flaring slightly to some gasps and sudden flailing limbs. 

“Ranger on deck!” someone called. It was a common warning all members of a J-crew knew from their first day. Mostly precautionary, it was a means by which to warn the crew that the dragon’s reactive impulses would be heightened. So that they may better be on their guard. And their best behavior. The quickest way to find oneself on a dragon’s shitlist was to in any way aggravate, assault, or injure their Rangers. As it could happen through an accident as likely as deliberately, fair warning was called, and anyone who fell into the unfortunate situation regardless was on their own. 

Chuck looked up, feeling an odd mix of happiness and pride swirl in his belly. He was a **Ranger** now. Having graduated swiftly once his father had gotten over his concerns toward exposing Chuck to further drifting. He and Striker were on reserve for the moment, as his father, uncle and Lucky were a founding unit. Hercules Hansen had a duty first and foremost to his own team. It meant that Chuck and Striker wouldn’t see much action, but he was all right with that for the moment. Striker hadn’t yet reached his full size or range of abilities and the longer Chuck could keep him from being needlessly strained, the better a show they’d make of it later. 

He watched people regard him. The youngest pilot yet at fifteen. Untried, untested, but exceptionally skilled. He’d had a dragon long before most had had the chance. And what a dragon he was. 

A low whistle sounded behind him and he felt the hair on his neck stand to attention. 

“That is a beautiful lay out, Striker,” Raleigh Becket commented. 

Chuck didn’t have to turn and look to know both Beckets were behind him. Like most dragon bonded Rangers, they were joined at the hip. It was very rare to see one without the other, and on such occasions, it was not long before the other found their way over. 

_Thank you,_ Striker chirped, practically preening in response. 

When Raleigh didn’t respond, Chuck chanced a look behind him and noted Gipsy wasn’t within sight. The Beckets couldn’t hear Striker. 

“Where’s Gipsy?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

“Cherno and the Kaidanovskys are passing through,” Yancy informed him. “She and Cherno are friends, so she’s abandoned us for the afternoon.”

“Cherno Alpha is here?” he asked, surprised. 

“Something about supplies,” Raleigh responded. “Have you never seen her?” he continued after a moment, looking Chuck over. 

Chuck snorted. “I know Cherno.”

_She tried to keep us._

“Did she now?” Yancy asked, both Beckets grinning. 

_Yes. She thought we were exceptional and fancied raising us herself._ His wings flared slightly, tail lashing lazily, caught up in his story. _But, Lucky would have none of it._

Chuck blinked up at the ceiling. Gipsy and Cherno were flying a little low, he thought. 

_We were her little ones, and besides, it was too cold for us there._

“Could have stunted your growth,” Raleigh agreed, with a grin.

 _Yes, it was for the best we didn’t stay. Although, I do like Cherno regardless._ He shook himself out, sending secured crew members swinging in their safety harnesses. 

Chuck buried his face in his palm and tried not to laugh.

 _I think I will go join them._ And without waiting, he stepped clear, extended his wings and beat upward until he was aloft, ducking into a release shaft and shooting away. 

“He’s…” Raleigh said, teeth showing in a grin that was the only thing keeping him from laughing outright. 

“Excitable,” Chuck suggested. 

“Impetuous,” Yancy said at the same time, finishing his brother’s statement. He was managing to hold it together far better than the younger two Rangers, solely by virtue of having turned his back on the hilarious show of upended crew still being swung about. 

Raleigh laughed, turning sideways in an attempt at politeness. Given the way his shoulders were shaking, it was little help. 

Cherno Alpha was the largest, broadest, heaviest dragon in the PPDC. She was dark and covered in spikes with large, curving horns that flowed back from her head in spiraling archs, falling well over the curve of her back. Her tail was thick, ending in a heavy club covered in hard ridges. And if she weren’t imposing enough, she could spray an acid blast from as far away as a mile and have it land on a rapidly moving target. It was no wonder she managed to protect the Siberian coastline mostly alone. 

But for as imposing as she was, her personality betrayed her apperance of ferocity. 

_Chuck,_ she rumbled in warm happiness, head lowering to nudge his cheek. 

His hands reached up automatically and stroked her. “Long time, no see, Cherno,” he greeted. “How’ve you been?”

Her head shifted so that the broad expanse of her snout could bump against him. Well accustomed to such actions, Chuck kept his feet. _We are all well,_ she informed him. _And happy to hear that you are now a Ranger._ She lifted her head free of him, neck raising so she could tilt it back skyward and release a few short grunting sounds that Chuck knew was a celebratory call for dragons. Four other dragons took up the sound and Chuck realized they were not alone. He’d known Striker was there, could feel him through the bond they shared even if he couldn’t see him. But Cherno’s mass seemed to be unintentionally concealing a few others as well. 

He took a few steps to the side to find Striker, Lucky, Gipsy and Romeo Blue. His grin widened and he was moving before he’d even given it much thought. Cherno’s head followed him on her long neck, the silver underscales of her body glinting in the light like a work of priceless art. 

“Romeo!” he greeted. 

The dragon put its nose down allowing Chuck to stroke it in greeting. 

_It is good to see you, Chuck,_ she greeted. 

Due to her name, many assumed Romeo Blue was a male dragon. Or perhaps people were just more often stuck in the unfortunately misguided assumption that all the dragons in the PPDC were male, because they fought. In truth, the majority of the dragons in service were female, and if anything, should be assumed as such without further knowledge. 

In Dragon Society, it was female dragons who ran things, as they were the ones who produced the eggs. Male dragons cared for the eggs while female dragons - with their greater sense of protective instincts and desires to keep their territories clear of anything that would cause their young harm - flew perimeter patrol and engaged all hostiles. History and story - the majority of which was written and handed down in the male gaze through the male line - would have people believe that every fearsome dragon of old was male. Regardless of the tale itself, getting everything absolutely, devastatingly wrong. 

Tales of Dragon hoards and the beasts within great glittering caves were about the only stories where the likelihood of the dragon being male was higher than it being female. As ancient ‘heroes’ would have been encroaching on dragon nests and any young or potential young therein would have been left in the male dragon’s care. 

And all tales of sacrifices being offered were skewed stories of hostage situations wherein a member of a dragon’s generationally tied family was taken and used in an attempt to control the dragon itself. Many dragons had lost long, multi-generational ties this way and after a while the practice had died out, for fear of younger dragons experiencing the devastation. The war had rekindled the tradition and changed the understanding of dragons all at once. Bringing them from large, intelligent but otherwise wild beasts back to the civil, social, sentient beings they were. Most of the world still seemed to view them as war machines that obeyed the humans to whom they were assigned, but given dragon history, the dragons themselves were not discomforted by the widespread misinformation. Nor were many on various levels within the PPDC. As fear and awe of them kept the safe. And people could be...dangerous when their long held beliefs were threatened. 

Chuck spent the afternoon in the dragons company. There was always something relaxing and freeing in spending time with them. Dragons were enlightened and understanding in ways humans weren’t, accepting in ways humans couldn’t, and generally all around better. By the time they parted, having spent the later hours in fellow Rangers’ company, Chuck felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. 

As he lay over Striker’s back, looking up at the stars he asked, “Striker, why did you choose to be male?”

He’d wondered about it a lot since their conversation about Chuck’s own sexuality. 

_It made sense to be._

“Why?”

The dragon exhaled in a sigh and Chuck smiled as it lowered him, sinking slowly into scales before being risen back up. _Because your own preference is to males._

He sat up at that, confused and slightly alarmed. “Did you think I wouldn’t like you if you were female?” he asked, feeling something tight twist inside him at the thought. 

Striker huffed the equivalent of a dragon laugh. _You would love me regardless. As I love you._

“Yeah, I would,” he assured him, stroking him with the hand at his side. “So why?”

_Because I was aware before you were that you held a male preference, I foresaw the need to take a complimentary form. We hold no concerns over choice of companionship, and we may chose differently at different stages of our lives, but humans are more settled in this than we, and so it was more practical to be male._

“I’m still not getting the _why_ ,” Chuck replied, rubbing at his brow. Striker was talking in circles. 

_You will._

He’d clearly meant ‘one day’ because that had been the end of the discussion. No matter how Chuck phrased the question or how often he asked, he received the same round about answer. He hated to think that Striker had chosen in deference to him and one day while complaining of it to Lucky in earshot of Gipsy received an answer he hadn’t been expecting. 

_You are focusing on your own feelings in the matter and not taking his into consideration,_ she informed him. 

“I _am_ taking his feelings into consideration!” he’d countered. “I don’t want him to do this just because he feels like he _has_ to, Gipsy! I want him to want to be the gender he is for himself, and be comfortable in it without my comfort being a factor.” 

_Humans must know a reason for everything,_ she commented. _If there is no answer, you are unhappy. If you do not understand an answer, you are unhappy. If you do not agree with an answer, you are unhappy. Can you not be happy that there is no need to question at all? Some things just are._

“Oh….I know that face,” Raleigh commented as Chuck wandered into the canteen. 

“What’d Gipsy tell you?” sighed Yancy. 

A chair was pushed out by a booted foot to the leg and Chuck went to it without thinking. These were Gipsy’s Rangers after all, they knew her best and could help him understand what she’d meant. 

As he sat, a slice of chocolate cake was set down in front of him. 

“You’re too young to drink,” was the explanation. 

He took a bite of it absently, trying to put the exchange and his disjointed thoughts in some semblance of order so it could be relayed properly enough to get the right response. 

Neither Becket said anything as he laid out the story, which he belatedly realized included the reasoning behind the encounter in the first place. But, neither brother looked uncomfortable. If anything, they took the news of Chuck’s sexuality in a stride so easy, it may as well have been non-existent. As if, it didn’t matter at all. 

By the time the story was over, he’d eaten all the cake and half a pudding he hadn’t realized he’d been given. And Yancy and Raleigh were nodding. 

“She’s right, you know,” Yancy informed him gently. 

“That I’m not thinking about Striker’s feelings?” he asked, feeling heat rise in his face. 

“Look at it this way,” Raleigh said, leaning in and holding up his hands. “If you could choose your gender, what would you base the decision on?”

Chuck blinked. 

“It’s not an easy process,” Yancy continued. “They have to change their entire bodies to accommodate their gender. Sure, they can switch back and forth until their first breeding, but most don’t. They pick one and they devote their body’s resources to cultivating that gender, and then that’s it.”

“So if you had to go through a long, uncomfortable and slow process that you first undertake at a young age, and you knew that you could change it, but it would be the same process all over again, maybe even more uncomfortable the second time around, wouldn’t you want to get it right the first time?” 

Chuck nodded. 

“So, what would you base the decision on?” Raleigh asked again. “You have no idea what one gender is like over the other. You don’t have any real understanding of gender at all. How do you decide?”

Chuck bit his lip and frowned into his pudding. Twisting the spoon around and poking it. 

“You go with your gut,” Yancy told him after a long silence. 

Raleigh looked to his brother slightly exasperated like he’d wanted Chuck to figure it out on his own no matter how long it took. Yancy shot him back a look that Chuck couldn’t place, but knew meant something by the way Raleigh’s shoulders sagged. 

Yancy reached out and put a hand over Chuck’s forearm. It was a gentle, comforting touch, but electricity sparked up Chuck’s nerves and he could feel his breath catch. He became suddenly hyper aware of how close the brothers were. How intimate their conversation was, and the location of it. They were sitting in a corner, with no one about for several tables. As the brothers were the only ones at Gipsy Danger’s space. Crews didn’t _have_ to eat together and tables weren’t assigned, but it was easier on the peace to do so, and preferences were observed and quietly noted. Once the Rangers had chosen, regardless of where crew had sat earlier upon arrival to a new Shatterdome, they would immediately defer to the Rangers’ preference. And so it would hold throughout their stay. 

“You go with what feels right,” he continued. 

Raleigh turned in his seat. “How did you know you were gay?”

Chuck swallowed. He wanted to blurt out ‘you’ because this simply could not be happening. He wanted to pinch himself, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Even if it _was_ a dream - which, given his dreams, would sort itself out in short order. He’d know he wasn’t conscious if they leaned in and started something. His pants tightened as his body responded to that bit of news, images coming unbidden and unchecked. He tried desperately to distract himself, but every shift of his eyes only landed on more Becket. Why did they have to be so goddamn beautiful?! 

Yancy’s hand hadn’t moved, and Raleigh was sitting so close that his knee brushed Chuck’s hip when he’d shifted. Heat and arousal burned through him, churning in his gut like the feel of Striker’s incendiary gland during drift. He gripped his spoon tightly, glad it wasn’t plastic so it wouldn’t be obvious. 

“You just knew, didn’t you?” Raleigh urged, but he was so close Chuck’s brain automatically translated the hushed tone to keep his voice from carrying across the room to a bedroom voice and felt muscles jerk around his abdomen. 

He nodded, red as anything, he knew. Too embarrassed to meet their eyes. 

“And that’s how Striker knew,” Yancy replied, giving his arm a supportive squeeze. 

That night, Chuck didn’t sleep with the dragons. Instead, he locked his bunk and indulged in wild fantasies until he was too exhausted to move. In the morning neither dragon asked after his absence, and he flushed in the realization that they didn’t have to. 

Alaska was entirely too damn cold in the winter, and he was glad when the order came to transfer across Shatterdomes. They were headed back to Australia and Chuck could hardly contain his excitement. He’d packed as soon as orders arrived, he and Striker still attached to Lucky’s dispatches, by way of sharing a co-pilot. And as a descendent of Herc’s, he could in theory also be required to fly with him or his uncle on her should a need arise. They were a family of interchangeable parts, but it suited them. 

Striker himself was not as enthusiastic and in fact spent the dwindling countdown to their departure growing increasingly more melancholy. 

“What’s wrong?” Chuck asked him the day before they were to leave. “We’re going home! Don’t you want to go home? We haven’t been there in so long.” 

Striker simply exhaled and blinked once before shifting his head against the ground and forlornly closing his eyes. 

“Striker, _talk_ to me! _Please_.” 

_He will settle,_ Lucky informed him, interrupting. _Leave him be for now, Chuck._

Chuck looked sideways at his dragon and sighed, trotting away from him at Lucky’s beckoning. 

At two in the morning, he was awoken by the sounds of an alert. The dragons all unfurled from their resting places, heads craning to watch as their J-crews came rushing in. Gipsy unfurled her wings and gave herself a shake as her crew scrambled in and promptly moved to the armor bay to be equipped. Romeo followed.

Chuck stood as the crews ran to the dragon bays, machinery whirling to life to crane the humongous pieces of plate armor that protected the dragons from additional damage. They were fairly hardy as a species, but regular engagement necessitated certain precautionary measures and all Jaeger teams were fully equipped with as much armor as could be comfortably borne. 

He padded across Lucky’s back, having fallen asleep between her shoulderblades and slid down the length of her tail. Neither her nor Striker’s crew had run in and he was curious as to why they’d been grounded. “Oi, Elvis,” he complained into the wall comm. 

“What can I do you for, Chuck?” came Tendo’s cheery reply. If the LOCCENT master wasn’t worried, it couldn’t be that great an issue.

“What’re we looking at?”

“You know, one of these days you’ll be sleeping in your room and get updates as they come in like a normal person.”

“Elvis, I’m a fifteen year old Ranger who rides dragons out to battle Godzilla’s cast offs. Normal was never on the table.” 

Tendo laughed. “Category Four, codename Knifehead-”

“You _really_ need to come up with more original names, mate.”

“Romeo and Gipsy on the roll.”

“Why aren’t there any Hansens at this party?”

“You’ve been off-rostered. You leave in eight hours. You’re Sydney’s now.”

“Marvelous.” 

“What’s the matter, Chuck?” came Raleigh’s voice over the comm. “Afraid you’re gonna miss all the fun?”

“Come on, Rals, you know Chuck’s just worried the Kaiju are going to suddenly dry up before he gets a chance.”

“We should be so lucky,” Tendo drawled.

“Bite me, Becket!”

“Later,” they chorused. 

Chuck waved to them as they crossed the bay in full gear. Their helmets were already on - which explained the comm patching - but they still saw him and waved back in high spirits. 

“Be careful out there,” he told them, watching as they rode the lift to the flight platform, walking right off it in full confidence that Gipsy wouldn’t move. She didn’t of course, and they strode across her back to lock in. “Don’t break anything important.”

They both laughed. 

“No promises,” Raleigh replied. 

“Good morning, Becket Boys!”

“Tendo, what’s happening my man?”

“How’d that date with Alison go last night, Mr. Choi?”

Chuck flipped the switch and crossed back to where Lucky and Striker were waiting, alert and ready. “We’re not even on standby,” he informed them, climbing up Striker’s nose and walking up the center of his face to settle atop his head. Whenever general call rose, the dragons had a tendency to get protective. 

He could see Tamsin, shrugging on her jacket, boots untied as she shuffled determinedly out to Coyote Tango, whose ruff lowered as she approached. She waved and Chuck waved back; it was mostly a raised arm and spread fingers, but Tamsin and 2 A.M. had never been the best of friends. Chuck could understand any additional grumpiness on her part, having been forced to sit back and wait out engagements many times himself. He hadn’t been a Ranger then, and it had been difficult. Now that he was, it was nearly painful. But they had their orders. 

He sprawled out over Striker’s head and lay face up with his arms tucked behind his own. “We might as well go back to sleep,” he told them. 

Neither dragon commented, but they didn’t really need to. They all knew no one’d be getting any rest until the others returned. 

Not knowing eventually rankled, but he refused to flip the comm back on. It was rude to listen in on another Ranger’s flight uninvited. He knew neither the Beckets nor the Gages would care, but Marshall Stacker Pentecost was on deck, and as he hadn’t yet had a mission of his own, he didn’t want to accidentally do something that would ensure he never received one. 

It didn’t stop Tamsin however, and sound carried well in the dragon pens. 

The Kaiju had evaded the Gages, who’d been sent further south than necessary, and the Beckets ended up with the full brunt of the Kaiju’s surprise attack. LOCCENT had tracked it, but when Gipsy and the Beckets had arrived, it had submerged so deeply in the water, they’d been forced to fly lower to search for it. 

The echo of Gipsy’s roars could be heard from within and without the bays, and Chuck sat up anxiously. Dragons were shifting in response and that was never a good sign. 

The Gages were on their way back but having overshot, and with Romeo not the swiftest flier, they were too far away to provide assistance. Chuck watched his dad and uncle come running in and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Lucky went to be armored, and the elder Hansens were being equipped when the screaming started. 

It wasn’t unusual for Kaiju to go after a dragon’s Rangers. Injury to them forced the dragon to retreat in a blind panic, and any sort of threat was taken as a personal affront. The dragons became difficult to guide when their Rangers were endangered, minds taking on a hard, dangerous edge that called to mind their status as top of the food chain and reverberated with the fierce instincts of any wild animal. 

Yancy and Raleigh were talking over each other, and Tendo and the Marshall over them. Chuck caught snippets, based on the urgency of the tones, and his predilection toward the Beckets. Gipsy’s chest armor had been breached. She was bleeding. Something about water. And below the enraged roars, more screaming. This time, with little more attached to it than response to impulses. 

“YANCY! NOOOO!” echoed through the bays, Gipsy’s agonized roar ripped through just below it, rattling all the armor in the hangar. 

“RALEIGH!! RALEIGH!!” the Gages cried as one. “RALEIGH NO!” 

It was the last thing Chuck heard, the wind tearing away the sound. Striker had taken flight without orders and with absolutely no warning. Chuck wasn’t about to scold him, as he was of the same mind. They had no harness, no armor - for him or Striker - no flares, absolutely nothing but their will and what strength Striker’s rage brought forth. 

Chuck was privately grateful for every last drill, as he settled himself between two of Striker’s spines, shoving his shoulder against the boney curve to keep him seated, knees flexed and feet shifting to maintain balance. Striker was the fastest flyer in the PPDC, and they reached the entanglement in no time at all, with his dragon’s heart driven to push himself. Romeo’s jaws were locked about Knifehead’s skull protrusion, her fore and rear legs scrabbling as she fought to keep purchase and score hits against it. The Kaiju had been electrocuted something awful, large chunks of its breast fallen away, and a pair of charred minor forelegs crippled against it. Below its haunches Gipsy thrashed, her tail and neck making great waves. The tip of a wing flailing out of the water every so often as she fought to keep her head above the water, and not be rolled onto Raleigh who was presumably still attached and likely unconscious. Chuck knew Gipsy would drown before she’d allow herself to be used to kill him, she wouldn’t have been struggling so wildly if it weren’t the case. Which was one Becket accounted for at least. 

Striker roared, a sound that seemed to still every other creature present, which was helpful as it gave Chuck the moment of hush to cry, “ROMEO GET OUT OF THE WAY!” in time for the dragon to break free as Striker’s jaws parted and the brightest fire Chuck had ever seen burst free of him. 

The Kaiju roared and reared. Romeo turned, clubbing it in the center of its chest swiftly enough to not catch fire herself. The Kaiju overbalanced and Striker swept in a clean turn and blasted it again. Chuck didn’t think a second hit was necessary, but he wasn’t about to argue and Striker wouldn’t have listened anyway. 

Knifehead screeched and thrashed. The saltwater caught fire and Chuck had a terrified moment of concern for Gipsy and the Beckets before Striker was lunging down and impaling the Kaiju with the claws of all four legs. The Kaiju’s cries were piercing, but Striker lifted and hurled it further away, beating his wings to keep them in place, tail striking the water to cut great slashes. He roared again and a third round of flames caught the Kaiju square in the face. A second volley compliments of Lucky herself who’d just arrived. She rarely breathed fire, as she explained she didn’t quite have the heart for it. But the light of her flame was powerfully bright in the darkness and Chuck could feel the warmth of it from atop Striker. 

The Kaiju stopped making sounds, body twitching only minorly as what was left responded to the aft brain’s undamaged state. 

Striker landed in the water heavily, his head disappearing under the water and absolutely soaking Chuck a moment later. He backed up as Gipsy’s head landed against Striker’s side, shifting down as quickly as he dared to check for signs of life. Between them, the three dragons managed to carry Gipsy and a dangling Raleigh back to the ‘Dome. Striker had barely set his part of Gipsy down before they were off again. 

The second trip was much colder than the first. The sharp winter chill sinking into Chuck’s soaked (and light) clothing. But he said nothing and kept his eyes open, drifting with Striker so they could use the combination of their senses for the search. It was hard to see, with the Kaiju carcass bleeding out sluggishly and murking up the water, but they managed to catch sight of him. The flash of his armor catching the dying embers of Striker’s attack on Knifehead in stray patches that bobbed across the ocean. Chuck didn’t even think, merely reacted, diving in as soon as they were level. Striker wouldn’t be able to reach him and free him without ripping Yancy’s arm off in the process. As it was, it took Chuck fifteen minutes of tugging and shoving and careful swipes from Striker to get Yancy free of the rock outcropping he’d been embedded within. 

Arms about him, he tugged him up into position against him and held on to Striker’s spines with numb limbs as they raced back. Lucky was on her way back to search for _them_ and turned to follow after them. Striker landed with a boom in the hangar and Chuck let go. He and Yancy sliding bonelessly down the dragon’s side. 

Striker shifted, spreading a wing to catch them and cushion the fall. They rolled as they hit the ground and medical was on them immediately. The crinkle of heating foil and the flash of lights passing as he was put on a gurney and wheeled out was the last thing his mind registered before losing to unconsciousness. 

When next he woke, everything hurt. And in a way he was unused to it doing so. His lungs burned and his skin felt like it had been broken off and was hanging on only due to the connection to his nerve endings which were raw and screamed at him loud enough to split his head in two. 

“Chuck?” came a voice. 

He frowned, face scrunching up at the sound. 

“Mr. Hansen.”

His eyes opened in response to the command, registering the hazy figure of the Marshall. He opened his mouth to speak and coughed, gagging suddenly. 

“Easy, Chuck,” his uncle soothed, resting a hand to his chest. “You’ve been intubated. Don’t fight it, just relax.” His hand stroked down Chuck’s breastbone and Chuck tried to focus on it. His uncle did it a few more times until Chuck’s features had smoothed out. The tube was the most irritating thing Chuck had ever been forced to endure and nothing he did could quite make him ignore it. But after collecting himself, he met the Marshall’s gaze again. 

“I’m aware,” Stacker said. “That the circumstances of the engagement with Knifehead in which you found yourself were of your dragon’s choosing.” Chuck shook his head, but the Marshall held up a hand. “Instinct drove him, yes. But you were not consulted either time, and in any event, the situation warranted action - ordered or otherwise. Be advised, this is the only time you will be pardoned from such a breach of conduct.” 

Chuck blinked at him. 

“Your Jaeger’s action saved the lives of two of the PPDC’s finest.” Chuck felt something unravel in his chest. “Congratulations on your first kill, Ranger Hansen.”

His breath caught long enough that a slight beeping came from one of the machines and his father leaned over - having been standing by his head, and thus out of Chuck’s immediate line of sight - and kissed his brow. “Breathe, Chuck,” he murmured against his skin. 

The breath all rushed out and he ended up choking as oxygen pumped in at twice the efficiency. His father stroked his hair back, and his uncle took his hand and gave it a bit of a squeeze. 

“Let’s see about getting you more comfortable,” the Marshall said, turning. “Nurse!”

Yancy Becket had torn his rotator cuff, broken his arm at the stress points of every joint and looked like he’d lost a fight with the side of a building, but he grinned as Chuck was wheeled into his and Raleigh’s shared room. 

“My hero!” he exclaimed brightly, uninjured arm extended in welcome. 

Chuck flushed, looking down. 

“That is so adorable,” Raleigh commented from his own bed. Though he’d remained harnessed and thus hadn’t been lost to the water as Yancy had, because of the position he’d been in and the struggle to keep him from being crushed, he’d sustained internal injuries and had needed abdominal surgery. He was propped up by as many pillows as Chuck figured they could find, a tube with what Chuck knew to be damn fine painkillers connected to the I.V. tucked into his inner arm. He’d sustained a few burns due to his armor heating in the water under the force of Striker’s initial blast, and that arm - the opposite of Yancy’s - was carefully wrapped and slung. “Do it again!”

Yancy chuckled as red swathed up the back of Chuck’s neck. “Aww, leave him alone, Rals.” He beckoned Chuck over and the orderly rolled him up beside Yancy and locking his wheels, left quietly. 

“It _is_ damn adorable though,” he informed Chuck with a wink. 

Chuck’s eyes darted back down to his tangled fingers resting in his lap and both Beckets laughed softly. 

“ _Thank_ you,” the elder said with so much feeling, Chuck looked back up immediately. 

“We owe you,” Raleigh added. 

“I didn’t-” he began to protest, but they cut him off, both shaking their heads. 

“I don’t care what anyone says. Striker didn’t jump into a Kaiju Blue ridden patch of ocean and spend fifteen minutes in freezing water clawing my arm out of solid rock in nothing but sleep pants and a tank.” He tilted his head, waiting for Chuck to meet his eyes. “ _You_ did.”

Chuck felt his heart thud. 

“You could have let Striker just grab me and go-”

“He would have torn your arm off!” Chuck gasped in horror. 

Yancy smiled, nodding. “Exactly.”

“You showed initiative,” Raleigh added. “Cool head under pressure. You may not have had a choice in the matter, but you used what you knew to your advantage. You saved Yancy’s life. You saved mine. And you saved Gipsy’s. Spoke to her the whole way back. I heard you.”

Chuck swallowed hard. He couldn’t exactly recall what he’d said, and he hadn’t thought Raleigh would have remembered any of it besides. Hadn’t thought Raleigh’d been able to hear him to begin with, but then...he _had_ been in drift. 

“So did I,” Yancy said. “If not all of it, enough.” 

“There’s a special place you go, when you’re near death,” Raleigh explained. “Somewhere only dragons know. We’d heard of it, but…” They looked to each other. “Your dragon puts you there, so you won’t feel the pain, so you won’t see the killing blow coming, so you won’t suffer.”

“Gipsy kept us there. We had a lot of time to think, while we waited on her. On death. Whichever came first.”

“Chuck…” He exhaled heavily and raked the hand of his I.V. ladened arm through his blond hair. “We haven’t exactly been…” He licked his lip, drawing it into his mouth to pin it between his teeth. 

Chuck looked from one to the other, confused. 

“We thought, we’d wait until you were _older_ ,” Yancy explained. 

They were silent for a long moment. One that seemed to stretch on even longer as no one spoke. Chuck didn’t know what was going on, but could feel the weight of its importance and so kept silent for once in his life and remained patient, whether through fear or out of necessity, he couldn’t say. 

“Have you looked at us?” Raleigh asked just when Chuck thought he couldn’t bear it any longer and began frantically searching for something to say. “When drifting with Striker. Have you _looked_ at us?”

“Yeah,” Chuck replied, relieved to be able to contribute somehow. “I was looking at you when we rescued you.”

“And you found me,” Yancy said. “You saw me in pitch black water, ensconced in dark rocks, five feet _below_ the surface.” 

“You were shiny,” Chuck informed him. 

“I was shiny,” Yancy said, as if that was answer enough. 

“Your armor-”

“You knew I was still harnessed to Gipsy,” Raleigh cut in. 

“The way she was moving-”

“No. You said, and I quote: ‘Careful Romeo, Raleigh’s on your left.’ There were two dragons between us at the time.”

“You were…”

“Shiny?” they asked.

Chuck swallowed. “...Yeah.”

“You’re shiny to us too,” Raleigh told him. 

“I don’t…”

Yancy heaved a sigh. “It’s...not ideal,” he began. Chuck could tell it was difficult for him to get out, whatever it was. “Our age differences...Ten years from now, they wouldn’t matter. Hell, _five_ years from now- But as it stands…”

“You’re _fifteen_ , Chuck.”

He opened his mouth, paused, then snapped it shut. Eyes going wide slowly. 

“Yeah,” Raleigh said, holding his gaze. Yancy said it at the same time, but his was accompanied by a heavy sigh of resignation. 

“We’ve known for a while,” the elder Becket confessed. 

“A _long_ while,” Raleigh admitted. 

“We just…” He waved his uninjured hand around, at a loss. “You’re so _young_.”

“Not that that’s your fault!”

“No, no. Not your fault.”

“It’s just...that...well, you know.”

Chuck nodded, stunned. 

“We wouldn’t even be telling you,” Raleigh went on. “If not…”

Yancy sighed again. “We can’t keep it from you anymore. Not when...not when it affects you like this.”

“Affects me?” Chuck asked, finding his voice. 

“Striker may have been the one to break rank, but you wanted it just as much as he did. You didn’t even _try_ to stop him,” Raleigh said. 

“You were willing to risk _your_ life for ours.”

“I love you,” Chuck defended. It wasn’t an outburst, it hadn’t been halted or stilted. It had rolled off his tongue, a simple fact. He didn’t even feel sorry about it. Didn’t feel dread, or shame, or mortification. He felt...unchanged. As if…

“We know,” Yancy said softly. 

“And you love me,” Chuck replied. It wasn’t even a guess. It wasn’t a question. 

“We love you,” Raleigh confirmed with a nod. 

Chuck leaned back in his wheelchair. 

The Beckets didn’t say anything further. 

They sat in quiet for a while. 

“I’m going to grow up,” Chuck said eventually. He looked up, met each pair of eyes, one and then the other. “In five years it won’t matter.”

Yancy frowned, brow furrowing slightly. 

Raleigh lifted an eyebrow. 

“So we pretend. And we...we stay friends. And we don’t _die_.”

They each huffed quietly in amusement. 

“And in five years…”

“Five years,” they agreed. 

Chuck reached over and unlocked his wheelchair, prodding the call button a few feet away. “Hey, Elvis! Think we can get some chocolate cake down here?” 

“I’m not an operator, Chuck.”

“None of us are allowed sugar.”

“But, I am a black market dealer, apparently. I’ll bring it down myself. I have a break in five minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“Cake?” Yancy and Raleigh asked when he turned back around. 

Chuck shrugged. “None of us can drink.”

When Tendo arrived, the Becket Boys were still laughing.


	2. Act II

“I hear we’re going to be grandparents!” Raleigh greeted him, slinging an arm about him as he came into range. Chuck leaned into it minutely, though it probably looked as stiff necked as usual. Which was to their benefit really. 

They didn’t see each other all that often, for being in the same branch of service, although a lot of that had to do with Gipsy and the Beckets two years of recovery post Knifehead. Gipsy had required the most physical care, as she’d been badly mauled and nearly drowned by the Kaiju. Raleigh had been the first to recover, the burns on his arm leaving a scar that to Chuck was absolutely beautiful. The intricate patterns that hailed him as Gipsy’s Ranger - something in line with their true names, that rang of secrets waiting to be discovered - had been literally branded onto him. It stretched from his collarbone and over his shoulderblade, extending all the way down his left side as far as his hip. He wasn’t shy about it and in fact, wore the scars with pride. Whenever he would be about without his shirt, Chuck traced the lines with his eyes, fingers itching to do similarly. As he’d grown, his tongue had taken an interest as well, and there were days he nearly couldn’t function out of want.

Yancy’s arm had recovered, and months of intense physical therapy had returned full use of it to him, but on bad weather days, in extreme heat or cold, or every other Sunday, he’d shift and rub and otherwise do his best not to complain about the ache. His grip and dexterity had slipped somewhat, and he was every now and again sensitive about it - mostly when he couldn’t do something that he’d once taken for granted - but overall, he’d been returned to himself. 

Their body shapes had changed, reflecting the different exercises they’d taken to in lieu of those they’d been forced to abandon. They were both still solid muscle, but there was a lingering taper to the lines of them that Chuck could fall into for days. They’d kept to their words, each and every one of them, but as Chuck grew, he found himself growing anxious and had - for his eighteenth birthday - pulled a few strings to see about acquiring a very specific birthday present. He wasn’t about to laud it over anyone - he wasn’t an asshole - but there were advantages to ones co-pilot sleeping with the Marshall. And he never intended to poke that particular bridge ever again. 

“How are we _grandparents_?” Chuck replied, raising a brow at him. 

“We hatched them, we raised them from dragoncy...Grandparents.”

Chuck thought about it and nodded after a moment. 

“Jesus. Don’t tell me you buy into his whole ‘Grandparents’ shpiel,” was the first he heard of Yancy. He was standing in the doorway, shoulder to the frame. The sun was at his back and he had never looked more beautiful. 

Chuck shrugged again. “Can’t help it if it makes sense, mate.”

Yancy groaned, and rubbed at his eyes. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

 

“Can I see it?” he asked, as they made it over. 

Yancy wrapped an arm about him and tugged him free of Raleigh, hugging him tightly. “Of course you can,” he said, turning. His arm remained a weight about Chuck’s shoulders and Raleigh followed behind. 

“Gipsy’s beside herself,” Raleigh informed him. 

Chuck laughed. 

The breeding of PPDC Jaeger Dragons was a new development, and the Beckets and Hansens had signed up their dragons for the program at their own requests. The process had been pretty direct, and they’d gotten temporary leave while preparations were made. Now that they’d bred, their genders were locked into their genetics, but Chuck had it on good authority that neither dragon minded in the least. 

They were still together, having returned the day prior for the laying. Although it was in their natures to remain together until the dragonling turned three, the fact that both had been raised by humans made it easier for them to depart from even instinctual conventions. As Striker was needed for service, Lucky - retired after receiving severe traumatic injuries in a Kaiju battle that affected her dexterity in the air to incompatible battle statistics - would be Gipsy’s companion for the duration of the egg’s incubation. For the moment, they were all stationed at the Los Angeles Shatterdome - a not so happy medium between the maternal and paternal lineages, as Gipsy’s egg had been laid in Alaska and Striker’s in Australia. 

Both heads raised as their Rangers entered the pens. 

“Look who we found!” Raleigh said, cheerfully, grasping Chuck by the shoulders and giving him an almost imperceptible shake. 

_Chuck,_ both dragons greeted him, full of affection. 

“Can I see it?”

 _Of course you can,_ Gipsy replied. She uncurled slightly, tail sliding, wings raising, to unveil a dark oval shaped egg with speckles of silver and gold. 

“That’s going to be a beautiful baby,” he said, without thinking. 

Striker and Gipsy made pleased sounds and nuzzled one another. Raleigh’s hands flexed against his shoulders and Yancy’s arm gave a slight jerk in echo of a hug. 

“I want to talk to you about my birthday,” Chuck said as they helped him settle in. It was entirely an excuse to spend time together and they were all aware of it, but it had become tradition anyway. 

“We thought you might,” Yancy replied. There was nothing in his tone that indicated what they’d speculated about, and whether or not they agreed to whatever they’d come up with. Chuck found he wanted to know the answers all around. 

Raleigh sat on the bed and gave the mattress a slap. Chuck moved to sit beside him. Yancy grabbed the desk chair and set it down across from them, straddling it backwards and resting his arms over the back.

“I’m eighteen,” he informed them, as if they hadn’t been aware. They nodded regardless, but didn’t comment. Chuck inhaled - steadying himself - and released it in a long sigh. “I know we agreed five years, and I’m not about to go back on my word, but we’re halfway there and I thought...Well, I’m legal now and…” He swallowed. It took a moment, but he’d rehearsed it often enough, and it was his very legal birthday and it what he _wanted_. Lifting his chin he continued, “All I want for my birthday is you. One day, one night, and then we can go back to the way it was before.”

Raleigh sighed. “Oh Chuck…” He reached out and trailed the backs of his fingers in a barely there caress down his spine. “No, it won’t.”

“If this is what you want,” Yancy said, hands folded together over the neck of the chair. “We’ll agree. But, you need to know that _if_ we do this, Chuck, things _are_ going to change. Whether you want them to or not. Whether you acknowledge them or not. There is _no_ going back from this.”

“You’re still on active duty,” Raleigh added quietly. “You’re the best the PPDC has right now and they need you. But, what we do, Chuck...there is no guarantee. So, we will, but things...things’ll only get complicated. And we’ll have to do our best to overcome them.” He paused to inhale, lips pressed together. “No matter how we feel,” he finished quietly. 

“Aren’t you coming back?” he asked, suddenly crushed. He’d always thought..He’d never _imagined_...

Yancy reached for his hands, taking them between his and squeezing. “We’re retiring, Chuck.”

It felt like a blow to the gut. He shook his head. “No, you...you’re getting _better_ ,” he protested. “And Gipsy-”

“Lists when she flies now.”

He blinked several times, trying to make it make sense in his head, but nothing would slot into proper order. Their dragon was lame, she’d be an open target, an angle for the kaiju to use against them. Yancy and Raleigh’s lives would be at stake - not to mention Gipsy’s - and it was common practice to leave the service when your dragon could no longer fight with the odds in the PPDC’s favor. But he’d thought...he’d _dreamed_...He nodded in understanding and Raleigh pressed up against his side. “We’re sorry, Chuck,” he murmured softly against his ear. 

When they’d all had it out over two years ago, Chuck had naively thought it was the end of the worst times. They’d all survived Knifehead, they’d confessed their feelings for one another, and they’d privately sworn to try in five years. Two and a half years in and they were already failing. 

“Do you still want…?” He didn’t finish, and neither moved as they waited. 

Chuck couldn’t look at them. He was heartbroken, and he didn’t want to make them feel condemned over it, but he couldn’t hide his feelings. Not over this. 

“Ranger Hansen to LOCCENT,” came the page. “Chuck, get your ass up here.” 

He’d never been so relieved and so conflicted at the same time. Raleigh withdrew, fingers trailing slowly until they drifted free of him and Yancy held his hands a moment longer, leaning in to kiss the knuckles once lightly before letting go.

It took Chuck a long time to realize it had been goodbye. 

Yancy and Raleigh Becket had always been the best at everything they did, and had put their entire selves into it. Chuck knew they’d always love him. Could still see the bright, starlike glow of them through Striker’s eyes that marked them as one another’s in dragons sights. Long before he’d ever realized he’d had a crush, Chuck had been theirs and they had been his. And he would never forget that. 

Over the years, they kept track of one another through friends, family and dragons. Gipsy and Striker’s egg hatched and had ignored every last member of the graduating class of that year, finding a preference in Mako Mori and Jazmine Becket. Both had been overjoyed, and had promptly moved in together, the better to raise it. 

The dragonling was as beautiful as Chuck had assumed from the egg. With Gipsy’s regal figure and blue scales and Striker’s fierce gold eyes and silver undercarriage. Unlike most dragons in the PPDC, the dragonling was aware of its lineage and was granted regular contact with its parents, their Rangers, and Lucky and Coyote’s own families. It was a different time, with the face of the war changing on a daily basis. 

The Kaiju were getting larger, stronger, faster, more intelligent. And they were coming with greater frequency. It was all any of them could do to keep up, let alone meet them head on and take them out as they had once been able to. Times were getting desperate, as they lost more and more Jaegers to mauling and grievous injury. No dragons had died, but they’d lost Rangers, and those dragons who had survived them had fallen into deep depressions from whence there was no recall. 

What used to take one or two dragons at worst, now took five or six at best, and they no longer had the numbers they once had. They were _losing_. 

Chuck stood, Kaiju blood sliding down his suit and stared at the mess that had once been downtown Sydney. Vulcan Spectre and Echo Saber would not be getting back in the air any time soon. Vulcan could still fly, but was favoring a hind leg and both of her Rangers were critically injured. And while Echo’s Rangers had managed to survive - albeit badly banged up - the dragon herself had nearly had one wing ripped clean off, and it was unlikely, even if she had the time to heal, that she’d be back on the force. Ever. 

Striker was nearly covered in Kaiju blood, but otherwise unharmed. His speed, dexterity and fully matured plasma abilities had saved them once again. They stood, the only team left that could, in a wasteland with a dead Kaiju at their feet. Someone had taken a picture, and it was splashed all over the news within the hour. Herc and Chuck Hansen, weary and dripping blue, standing against a backdrop of fallen towers, Striker in a powerful but poignant pose behind them, and in the foreground, Mutavore’s corpse releasing a river of blood into the street. 

They’d barely managed to get out of their suits and start the process of getting clean before the orders came. Hong Kong. Chuck sighed and dropping his towel, went to shower. 

Striker was still battle worn and the flight to Hong Kong had been slow and arduous. By the time they arrived, both dragon and Rangers were exhausted. His father struck his gear as quickly and efficiently as ever, but Chuck lingered. Going to reacquaint himself with the Wei triplets and Crimson. The only dragon left on the force with a body that moved like a banner in the wind, her multiple legs at odd intervals along her sides. She was small, but she was long, and in the air unmatched in dexterity with full command of the winds. She was also the only dragon in the history of the PPDC to have three Rangers. A fact for which she was rather distinctly proud. 

Cherno’s team had arrived, the J-crew filing in ahead of the dragon, who always escorted her crew as they were choppered in, flying lazy circles to keep them in sight and safe. She wouldn’t enter the hangar until the last of them had made their way inside and the choppers had taken off for their crews to find their own rest. 

_Hello, Chuck!_ came a cheery greeting that rebounded off Striker, who was busy keeping his feet while the crew removed his armor. The dragons always flew them over when they could bear the weight. Most of the time it was for convenience. Occasionally, however, it proved more useful, as one or two Kaiju had attacked mid transfer, and the additional albeit unintentional precautions had saved lives. 

Chuck turned and found himself face to face with Striker and Gipsy’s dragonling. It had gotten rather large in the near year since he’d seen it last, and the mix of happiness and concern on its face reminded him of Striker at that age. He grinned and reached out to stroke it along the ridges it had inherited from its father. “Hey you,” he murmured. It turned its head into the petting, making a soft rumbling noise of contentment. 

Jazmine Becket was standing behind it, smiling at him. 

“Hey, Jaz,” he greeted, his momentary distraction earning him a dragon nose to the jaw. He chuckled as it whuffled him and patted it against its slender neck - all Gipsy. 

“Hey, Chuck.”

_I have missed you!_

“I’ve missed you too, sprog.”

 _Have you seen how large I’ve become?_ It raised its head, tail straightening and wings extending. 

Chuck laughed. “Yeah, couldn’t miss it. You’re nearly taller than me now.” 

It shifted this way and that until it had felt Chuck had gotten an appropriate measure of its physical accomplishments, then promptly went back to nuzzling him. The scratch of its scales against his shirt and jacket making a faint sawing sound. He stroked over its head, rubbing both hands over the crests of its eyes the way Striker used to enjoy being petted before he’d gotten too large for it to be managed. The dragonling’s head craned back, eyes closing in delight. 

“That’s a new one,” Jaz said with a smile, leaning into one hip. “Gonna have to remember that.”

“Remind me to show you a few more. Dragonlings practically come equipped with snooze buttons.” 

“You’re _shitting_ me!”

 _Bad words,_ sang the little dragon. 

“Yeah, don’t tell Mako.”

Chuck smirked. “No, they really do. I can show you after we settle in. Speaking of which, not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?” 

“We were deployed.”

His hands stilled and the dragonling made an unhappy noise, its body giving a quiver of discontent. Chuck caught himself and began stroking again. “Your dragon’s too young. It can’t even carry _one_ of you yet, and it won’t be able to for another _year_ at least.”

“Yeah. Well, I should clarify. _Mako_ was deployed. Me and Baby just came along for the togetherness.” 

Once paired and bonded, Rangers spent the rest of their lives together - or so much had at least held true, as the eldest Rangers from the first Jaeger team runs weren’t even grandparents yet. Not that many of them had children of their own, but that was beside the point. They were all still very young, yet, their bonds to one another were so deeply entwined Chuck had never seen a pair part ways since the beginning of the program. And in the rare event that one died, the other and their dragon still prefered the company of their fellows to the rest of society. Not that Chuck could much blame them. It was hard to be understood by people who saw dragons as breathing, specially weaponized organic bombers. And those who didn’t see them as weapons inevitably considered them pets - which was far less acceptable. 

Even his father and uncle were not able to part ways for long. Though their mutually exclusive timeshares - Uncle Scott keeping Lucky with him and Dad splitting his attention between two dragons - had worked wonders for the separation anxiety most Rangers had a tendency to suffer. 

“How is that even possible?”

_Mako is working Jaeger restoration while we wait for me to get big._

“Jaeger restoration?” he asked, brow quirked quizzically. 

Jaz bit her lip, eyes casting sideways. Chuck instantly knew what the term meant and just as immediately felt even more conflicted than he had prior to their arrival. 

“It’s no secret we’ve run low on able bodies,” she said. “Stacker figures it’s only a matter of time before we’re forced to make a last stand. He wants to be ready.”

“And he’s willing to drag people out of retirement to do it, huh?”

She shrugged. “Whatever it takes.” 

He couldn’t tell from her tone whether or not she agreed, though he knew she’d support Mako regardless. It was the conflict of interests that would prove the most daunting. Jazmine’s own brothers had been forced to retire after Knifehead. It had undoubtedly spared their lives, if changed the course of them entirely. 

Come to think of it, Chuck really had no idea what they’d been up to in the last few months. He and Jazmine had kept in contact - they’d been friends before the inexplicable entanglement with her brothers, and they’d remained friends after - but he’d never asked after Yancy or Raleigh and she’d never offered. It kept things civil, he supposed. 

_Chuck?_ the dragonling asked, head cocked to one side and observing him gravely. 

“Yes, love?”

_Do you know that your soul resonates with Gipsy’s Rangers’?_

“Sweetheart, now’s not the time!” Jazmine cut in as gently as she was able. 

“Yes,” Chuck sighed. “I’m aware.” 

_Oh,_ it replied in dismay. After a moment it added, _I’d thought perhaps you had not._

“What made you think that?”

_If you know, why are you not together?_

“That’s enough antagonizing Striker’s Ranger, dear.”

Chuck inhaled deeply, a little sharper than he’d been intending and released it slowly through his nose. He could feel the sharp cut of a migraine starting up behind his eyes. “Sometimes, even soul mates can’t make it work,” he explained, rubbing at his eyes. “Excuse me. I haven’t slept since before Mutavore.”

It made a concerned clicking sound and nudged him gently in the shoulder, its head stroking over his own in large sweeps that bumped over his shoulders on either side. _Rest! Rest!_ It urged. _You must rest!_

He opened his eyes and caught the briefest flash of the tail end of whatever emotion had taken over Jazmine’s features. However, before he could think too much on it, she smiled sweetly at him and the dragonling nudged his shoulder so enthusiastically that he stumbled slightly. It promptly apologized and he reassured it with one last pat to the nose that he was fine. 

Striker was in a mood as Chuck wandered back over. He’d curled up nose and tail in concentric half circles, and wings flat against him. They jutted slightly, fore and aft, but he was comfortable. Chuck stepped right into him, climbing over his foreleg and sliding beneath the curve of his neck. Striker didn’t even open an eye. Chuck made himself comfortable, at home in the familiar embrace. The warmth of Striker’s incendiary gland like a hot stone against his back. Chuck closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep, in full suit. 

He’d paid for it later. Upon waking, he groaned at the creak of his body as the overheated elements of materials that clothed it protested being unset. He stood and stripped right down to his tank and light underpants. He tossed his armor out past the sleeping dragon, practice making it easy to miss his hulking mass. It clattered noisily and woke Max who had been sleeping just beneath the gap where Striker’s foreleg and the floor would never meet. It was his favorite place to be, especially as he aged. The dog got up and shook himself out, stretching almost lazily before happily following Chuck out and over to the pile. 

Chuck spared a few moments to stroke him and ruffle his ears before setting himself back to his task. Max helped in his own way, picking up the pieces he could, sitting beside the pieces he could not - as if Chuck was incapable of seeing them and would lose track of them otherwise - and barking at any pieces that had dropped free in the free throw.

By the time he’d finished, his armor was stowed and he was sweating. Proximity and work had made him hot, and not even the nap could unwind his knotted muscles from an extended stay in the harness. He removed his tank, stretching as he did so and tossed it over one shoulder, dog tags jangling as they fell back into place. 

“Look who’s a big boy now.”

He stiffened reflexively, and it showed across his muscles, as his training left very little to the imagination. “Raleigh,” he greeted evenly, not looking at him. 

Max barked in happiness and scurried across the distance. Raleigh crouched down to pet him, smiling at him as he began to lick along his wrists and forearms exuberantly. “Missed you too, boy,” he murmured, patting him on the head. “Been a while,” he commented offhandedly. 

“And seven Kaiju.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

Chuck turned to look at him, confused.

Raleigh patted Max on the head and stood. “It’s something people forget,” he replied with a half shrug. “To thank you for your service. You sacrifice everything you are every time you go out there and no one ever says thank you. So, thank you.”

He blinked. “I-...Thank you.”

Raleigh smiled. “You’re _supposed_ to say ‘You’re Welcome’.”

Chuck folded his arms. “I’m not going to say that to someone who was killing Kaiju to pave the way for me to do the same.”

“Still stubborn as ever,” he sighed. 

The younger Ranger bristled. 

Raleigh dusted his hands on his pants and looked over Chuck’s shoulder at Striker. “Is he alright?”

Chuck sighed. “He’s just tired. We’re all just really tired. It was a long-” His eyes widened as Raleigh’s mouth crashed against his. He hadn’t even registered the blond moving. Had dropped his guard. One minute Raleigh was standing in front of him, and the next-

The American drew back, releasing Chuck’s lips with a soft sound of displacement. “Sorry,” he said casually. “I only agreed to behave for five years. Mostly because it was necessary, but after...Chuck?” He leaned in, observing the dark flush that had swept across the Australian’s skin. He frowned slightly, head tilting as he observed him. And then realization dawned and his eyes widened. “Fuck, was that your first kiss?!”

Chuck dropped a hand over his mouth in surprise. 

“Jesus, Chuck! I’m sorry! I-” He paused suddenly, blinked, and then said hesitantly, “You _waited_.”

Chuck pushed past him, or tried to. Because the moment he did, bumping the blond with his shoulder, Raleigh laughed happily and caught his wrist, turning him around. 

“Chuck...Chuck, look at me.” His head dipped, trying to catch Chuck’s gaze. “Hey…” His voice gentled, as did his touch and he reached up to stroke the side of Chuck’s face, thumb tracing the outline of Chuck’s lower lip. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quietly. “If I’d have known…” He heaved a sigh. “I shouldn’t have assumed, but...God, Chuck, you’re so fucking _beautiful_. How the hell has no-one-...” He caught himself and wrapped both arms about Chuck’s middle, drawing him close. “I like that no-one’s been able to touch you. Did you hit people?”

Chuck made a scoffing sound. 

“Come on...how many people did you have to slug for wanting you?” 

He squirmed in Raleigh’s embrace, but didn’t put up any real effort into trying to escape. Raleigh had caught him by the heartstrings, where he was most vulnerable. “Christ, Raleigh,” he complained. “Shut up!”

Raleigh’s grin only widened and he leaned in close enough that their lips were a vowel apart and they could feel one another’s exhales against their skin. “Make me.” 

Chuck had never kissed anyone and had never allowed anyone to kiss him, not even to do so by taking him by surprise - most recent incident excluded. He’d _wanted_ to be kissed. Wanted to feel the brush of someone else’s lips to his. And the press of their bodies. To know what it felt like when he was so completely into a person that the merest brush of skin to skin had him shivering and hot all over, consumed by need and passion. He’d dreamt of it. He’d fantasized about it. But he’d never allowed it of anyone in all the years he’d been wandering the world. Because it couldn’t _mean_ anything, wouldn’t have the effect he so desired if it were anyone but Yancy or Raleigh. 

He chewed his bottom lip in thought, trying to figure out the logistics with Raleigh so close. 

“You’re thinking too much,” the blond murmured, fingers stroking the small of Chuck’s back so sweetly he felt a moan rising. “If you want to kiss me, Chuck, just kiss me.” He sounded breathless. He sounded hungry. The way Chuck felt inside all the damn time. 

“I don’t-”

“I do. I’ll adjust. Fuck, Chuck...just, _kiss_ me!”

Chuck kissed him. It wasn’t anything fancy. No amount of observing could prepare you for what it was like to be so close to someone. There was suddenly so much to think about, and nothing at all was processing. He was _kissing_ Raleigh. And Raleigh was kissing back. 

He kept it chaste, almost reverent for as long as he could stand, Chuck could tell. With a groan, Raleigh’s mouth opened, tongue peeking out. The first sweep of it to his lips had him reflexively opening his own. The moment Raleigh’s tongue met his…

He gripped the blond tightly, hips arching up against him. Raleigh staggered back a step, as if unprepared for that sudden leap of logic, but regained his footing. Chuck gasped as the American bent slightly and hooked Chuck up by the knees, drawing his legs about him and securing his hands over his ass as soon as Chuck had locked his ankles. He walked back, turned, and then Chuck’s back was pressed against a concrete wall. Raleigh’s mouth tore from his and resettled lower, zeroing in on his neck. Chuck’s hands fisted in Raleigh’s hair at the sensations the other was causing and Raleigh groaned low, head arching back into the hold before jerking forward again. It caused Chuck to accidentally pull his hair, as he’d reflexively gripped him tighter and Raleigh made a sound that went straight to Chuck’s cock. 

“I’m sorry…” Raleigh rasped against his skin. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry...I’m so fucking sorry, Chuck. Fuck, I love you so much…” 

Chuck felt like his heart just might burst beneath the combined assault, but then as suddenly as he’d started, Raleigh stopped. His face pressed against Chuck’s chest almost apologetically. Chuck stroked back his hair, despite how upending the entire last however many minutes had been. Raleigh was still supporting all of his weight, but when Chuck tried to correct that, Raleigh just grunted and pushed him closer into the wall. “I want you, Chuck…” he said, voice muffled by Chuck’s skin. He swallowed and pressed a kiss over Chuck’s pectoral, under which his heart was thundering. “I want you, but-”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_!”

Raleigh stroked his sides in apology. “I’m not insulting you, Chuck.” He lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss against the curve of Chuck’s jaw, just below his ear. “But if you hadn’t even been kissed…”

“Raleigh,” he replied, completely exasperated. “I _want_ to!”

“I know...I know you do. But, I’m not taking you here ten feet from your dragon against a wall behind a stabilizing pillar in the hangar. I want to sprawl you out on a bed and take my time. Learn all your secrets and listen to you moan.”

Chuck shivered. 

“And Yancy would kill us both if we gunned this. Especially without him.” He kissed Chuck again, long and sweet. Then ruined it entirely by rocking his hips. The strain of his erection met Chuck’s and Chuck almost told him none of that was important just then. But he was right of course. And they owed it to Yancy. 

“I would love to blow you right here, but…” 

Chuck swallowed thickly, pulse jumping and cock throbbing at the thought. 

“I got the first kiss. Yancy should get the first taste.”

He was murmuring, words pressing into Chuck’s skin and sliding over it in extra caresses. Their eyes never leaving one another, and Raleigh’s hands everywhere. 

“Where’s your goddamn brother, Becket?” Chuck growled. “We passed five years months ago!” 

“You should-”

“If you finish that sentence, I am going to hurt you.”

Raleigh laughed. He leaned in and nuzzled him and it felt so goddamn good Chuck’s toes curled in his boots. 

“I can sleep _after_ the sex.”

His comment only made the younger Becket laugh harder. “Christ, you haven’t changed.” He rubbed their noses together. “You should probably report in first at any rate.”

“You expect me to report in in this state?!”

“We at least need to know if you’re going to be on call.”

“We can figure that out _later_!”

“Chuck...do you _want_ a cock up your ass?” He asked it so bluntly that Chuck was startled and for a moment at a complete loss as to how to respond. “Thought as much,” he went on, smugly. “Gonna have to check with the Marshall first, Chuck. Because, when we’re through with you, you’re not going to be able to ride for a week.” 

He thought about the ramifications of it, but was jarred from his mental calculations by Raleigh laughing even more loudly. “Fuck, I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss Chuck again. “We’ve missed you so damn much.” 

Chuck closed his eyes, their brows pressed together. “I’ve missed you, too.” 

“Good thing all bets are off,” the blond commented, nosing him playfully. 

“ **Six _years_**.”

Raleigh smirked, kissed him one last time and set his feet back to the floor. “Let’s go find Yancy.” 

Chuck was on call for the duration of his stay without so much as a weekend's leave available. It was the most frustrating, infuriating, cock blocking orders of his career. With a kaiju attack predicted within the week - if not sooner - all of Chuck's time was to be devoted to a state of constant readiness. Despite the number of rehabilitated Jaegers returned to the program, they were down to three serviceable dragons, and four on standby. Of which Striker was the pinnacle example and forerunner of any attacks. They were in for a long week. 

Still, Raleigh had assured him that just because they couldn’t explore as deeply as he wanted to, they could still stay together. In truth, the offer was one Chuck had always longed to hear, and the only place he’d rather be outside of the dragon pens. 

“Nice lay out,” he commented, taking in the altered room. Generally, twinned rooms went up instead of out to conserve space. And even then, most of the Shatterdome was at last six people to a room. With the exception of the officers, Rangers and the Marshall himself, who had something of a loft layout. The height of Shatterdome luxury. It was still concrete, metal, glass and paint, but it was roomier. Chuck had been to the Marshall’s quarters enough to know it wasn’t any more comfortable than what anyone else had, despite its additional square footage, and something about that made him proud of the man his father was in love with. If anyone was to take the place of his mother in his father’s life, Chuck was glad it was someone like Stacker. 

The Beckets room had the usual twin everything, the bedrests carved out of stone and concrete. Which would keep them cool all year round, regardless of their own personal desires. The mattresses had been pulled off the outcroppings however, and settled in the center of the room on the floor. The area used for seating and storage instead. Chuck wondered at the way they were pushed together though. 

“The Icebox is still home, but…” Raleigh shrugged. “It’s not the worst we could have gotten.”

He was referring of course to their vague status. Not exactly on duty, not entirely off. It was a difficult adjustment for everyone to make. Torn between which rank to follow, former or renewed. 

“A Ranger is a Ranger,” he replied. “No reason you should get any less than you deserve.”

The corner of Raleigh’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, and not entirely in amusement. It was a fond, intimate gesture Chuck wasn’t entirely sure the other Ranger was aware existed within himself. 

They had, in fact, been given Rangers quarters, Chuck noted with some relief. A private bathroom and a small, out of the way kitchenette with a sink, fridge, cabinet space, and a hotplate and coffeemaker plugged into the only outlets. Because of the nature of a Ranger’s lifestyle and the accelerated stress they undertook, every care was taken to ensure they had a quiet, private place they could retreat to when need be. The PPDC prefered breakdowns to happen out of sight, where morale wouldn’t be affected, and reporters couldn’t catch wind of the barest traces of troublesome news. 

Civilians weren’t allowed within them, not even for the promised distraction of private, intimate company. So it had become the holy grail of every Jaegerfly in existence. As far as Chuck was aware, the unspoken understanding had never once been breached. However, that didn’t mean the private quarters never saw their fair share of sexual escapades. There was no anti-fraternization policy in place within the Shatterdomes, though some argued there ought likely to be. Most, however, had exposure to Shatterdome life and society and understood how integral the chance to blow off steam unhindered by duty could be for all within it. 

As the foremost accomplished Ranger, and the youngest, Chuck had a list as long as his dragon of propositions, invitations, and flirtatious offers. But, he’d never felt right about any of them. Even while he and the Beckets had been estranged, it had felt like cheating and the feeling of discomfort within himself was something Chuck had never enjoyed. He’d turned down every last one and had strangely felt better every time. Even if he was left with only his hand for company. 

“Bit of a drop,” he commented, in reference to the bed. 

“Yancy and I...we started sleeping together after Knifehead. The nightmares…”

Chuck held in the sigh. He’d wished he could be with them, but he’d been a full Ranger by then and once recovered had been deployed, a kill already on record and solo on top of which - his reputation had preceded him. He was _still_ trying to catch up with it. 

“Sleeping and...well, _sleeping_ ,” Raleigh finished, avoiding looking at him.

Chuck’s brows rose of their own accord. “Really?”

Raleigh nodded doggedly.

“That’s so... _hot_.”

The blond’s head bounced up in surprise, eyes searching. 

Chuck just grinned at him. “Honestly, Raleigh, did you think I’d have something _against_ it?” He laughed softly. “I’ve wanted you as long as I can remember. The _both_ of you. You can’t tell me you never expected-”

They both turned as the bathroom door opened and Yancy trudged into the room. His head was down and he was rubbing at the back of his neck. There was a towel about his middle - for reasons Chuck really couldn’t explain given what he knew of the Beckets and his own preferences - and his own scars stood out darkly against his skin. Every here and there a small patchwork of grooves from where his armor had crushed his arm within the depths of oceanic rock. Raleigh was wearing a sweater, so Chuck couldn’t see his as well, and it made for an odd contrast. He didn’t particularly enjoy it and thought to rectify it at his earliest opportunity. 

“Yance,” Raleigh said, his brother’s name full of emotion, but lacking direction for further speech. 

Yancy looked up, face shifting slightly. “You saw him.”

Raleigh nodded.

“How was he? Did you speak to him? Is he angry?”

“He’s good.” He exhaled and raked a hand through his hair in a manner that was very much a show of restrained desire than anything else. “Fuck, Yance, he’s so goddamn _beautiful_...up close…” He shook his head, eyes closing for a moment. “There’s no comparison. None of the coverage of him does him justice at all.” The corner of his mouth quirked playfully. “Caught him stripping out of gear...the _muscles_ on him…”

Yancy groaned, head rocking back as if he’d rather not imagine it. 

“Our boy’s all grown up.”

“Did you talk to him?” Yancy pressed. 

“A little.”

“And?”

“And then I kissed him.”

Raleigh’s cheerful smile grew slowly as Yancy stared at him in surprise. When the younger Becket gave no further information, Yancy asked exasperatedly, “ _And_?”

“I kissed him back.”

Yancy jolted as if he’d been stuck with a cattle prod. He turned so quickly the towel lost purchase and slid down his legs, dropping to a silent heap on the concrete floor. 

Chuck held Yancy’s gaze, before slowly letting his eyes wander down. 

“It was his _first_ kiss,” Raleigh husked, leaning in behind him to speak into his ear. 

Yancy’s body wasted no time in reacting to the information, and while his eyes remained on Chuck, other parts of him rose to meet Chuck’s own gaze. 

He smirked, not wanting to look away, but too eager to let it go by. Eyes springing back up to meet the elder Becket’s gaze again. He lifted his chin. “Raleigh says you get first taste.”

Yancy choked. 

“Only fair.”

Raleigh slid his arms about Yancy, pressing against his back. “He’s here,” he murmured, husky and lustful. 

“He’s here,” Yancy agreed, mind still stalled as he made no move toward Chuck. 

“He’s here,” Chuck reassured the pair of them. “And his arms are empty.”

His response seemed to jumpstart Yancy - or maybe it was the firm hold Raleigh had taken around his dick - because he held out his arms and said, “Then he’d better get a move on or he’s going to miss out.” 

Chuck crossed the distance in two strides, and before he’d even entered the sphere of Yancy’s embrace, he was being kissed. Yancy didn’t kiss the way Raleigh did. Raleigh’s kiss was a game of give and take. Sparking and being sparked, electricity shared between two people. Yancy’s kiss was a living thing, all deep and soulful. Searching and tender, considerate and loving, even as he gripped Chuck by the base of his head and plundered his mouth. 

“Six. _Years_ ,” Chuck panted when Yancy had given him a moment to catch his breath. 

Hands were already working at Chuck’s pants.

“He’s really stuck on that,” Raleigh commented. “I think we better make it up to him, Yance.”

For emphasis, he tugged Chuck’s pants open and both Beckets groaned aloud. 

“Commando, Chuck? _Really_?”

“More comfortable to travel long distances in my suit,” he replied, voice losing strength as four hands reached in after him, stroking reverently. “Less…friction…” He gasped, hips rocking forward into their embrace. 

“First taste?” Yancy asked.

“Yu-up,” Raleigh replied, drawing out the vowel. 

Yancy dropped to his knees and Chuck was wholly unprepared as his pants were yanked to his knees. He fought not to squirm as Yancy stared at him, bared and aroused and _aching_. The blond’s hands curled about Chuck’s hips and he rested his brow against one, mouth close but unmoving, as he inhaled deeply. 

Raleigh swallowed the whine that bubbled up Chuck’s throat, moving to press their brows together and rocking their heads so they could both look down. Yancy shifted and pressed a sweet kiss to the head of Chuck’s cock, just slightly off center, and Chuck felt lightning jolt up his spine. Raleigh stroked his arms, mouth opening in mirror as Yancy adjusted himself and drew Chuck into his mouth. All. The. Way. 

It was slow and tortuous and Chuck clenched his jaw together to keep from spilling every filthy profanity he’d collected over his lifelong tour of the ‘Domes. Yancy’s tongue undulated against the underside as he welcomed him into wet heat and the tight embrace of his throat. 

“Fuck!” Chuck gasped, rocking forward onto his toes. 

Yancy’s hands caught against his hips once more and eased him back, throat constricting in a small gag at the sudden movement. 

“Ah...fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_!”

Raleigh slid around to press against his back, kissing over his shoulders. Chuck had been forced to put his tank back on, and the blond moved it aside to bite down over one shoulder as Yancy drew back slowly and plunged back down. 

Chuck’s body jerked in pleasure, hands closing about whatever was in range. One clenching in Raleigh’s pants and the other scrabbling for purchase over Yancy’s hair, fingertips twitching against his scalp. Yancy moaned in approval and the sound nearly undid him. 

“Careful, Yance,” Raleigh murmured sweetly, against Chuck’s skin. “Baby’s still a virgin.”

Yancy moaned even deeper and Chuck’s hips all but vibrated in his hold as he desperately tried to contain himself. Yancy nudged his legs apart and clutched his ass, spreading him open wide. Raleigh chuckled as he removed Chuck’s tank and tossed it aside. “Always in a hurry,” he commented, pressing a kiss to Chuck’s nape. His mouth trailed all down Chuck’s spine in a lazy, unhurried mapping of muscle and sinew until he was level with Yancy. Their fingers laced - Chuck could feel it against his skin - and with a moan of pleasure, Raleigh leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against the exposed whorl. 

Yancy gave a sharp suck, nearly painful in it’s intensity and Chuck inhaled in a rush, only to choke on a gasp as Raleigh’s tongue flicked against his hole. His arm flailed back behind him, hand fisting in the blond’s hair.

“Yeah, Chuck…” Raleigh rasped, voice deep with want. “Hold on for me, okay?” His tongue wiggled against him. “Have to catch up…” He gave a suck as Yancy’s mouth strained over Chuck, tongue pushing about the base of his cock as best it could manage with a mouthful. Raleigh worked him open with his tongue, Yancy halting any chance of release with a sharp, punishing suck whenever Chuck got too close. Soon, he was clutching them, a hand fisted in equally sunny shades of blond as his hips bucked in earnest, trying to absorb every last measure of pleasure they were doling out. Raleigh’d gotten him loose enough to spear him, and his tongue was undergoing enthusiastic acrobatic motions deep inside of him. 

Chuck could barely keep his balance, pushed to his toes and caught between strong hands and eager mouths. He held on as best he could, unable to think beyond ‘more’ and ‘yes’ and ‘please’. All of which he gasped out at the ceiling in less and less articulate outbursts as he was drawn close and denied, closer and again. Fingers stroked along his balls, wet with spit and oversensitive. He tried to warn them, nerves alight and muscles taut, but nothing but strangled noises made it free of him. 

He didn’t know if they were aware, or if it was entirely chance, but they were both on him as deeply as they could manage when he came. Spilling hot and endless down Yancy’s eager throat, Raleigh’s tongue buried deep, curved and holding. He collapsed, boneless and spent, caught in waiting arms and sandwiched between them in an entirely new way. 

Yancy kissed him, lazy and indulgent, coaxing Chuck’s tongue into his mouth to explore. He could taste himself, but it was different, mixed as it was with Yancy’s own. Raleigh brushed a hand featherlight over his hip and thigh and Chuck quivered. The younger Becket’s tongue flicking a deliberately drawn lick against the back of his ear.

“Maybe we should move to the bed,” he suggested, between kisses down the side of Chuck’s neck.

Yancy hummed in agreement, the sound traveling from his skin to Chuck’s. 

Chuck knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to get up. Luckily, two sets of arms wrapped around him and helped him to his feet. They crab walked, hands everywhere, mouths always connected to some part of his body, and eased back before dropping completely into the joined mattresses. 

“Stay,” Yancy urged, with just a hint of a plead.

He nodded sluggishly and was rewarded by two bodies twining with his and the covers drawn high over them. 

“But-” he protested weakly. 

“Later,” Yancy told him. 

“Plenty of time,” Raleigh agreed.

As much as Chuck wanted to disagree, what strength was left in his limbs was sapped by the press of Yancy and Raleigh, the loving, joyful strokes of their hands in long, lulling sweeps. Any argument he may have attempted died a swift death and was carried under with him. 

Raleigh chuckled from where he was sprawled across the bed, watching Chuck wiggling back into his pants. “Going to be a while before you get used to it,” he commented as Chuck shifted his hips around, trying to normalize. 

“Maybe you should stop eating him out so thoroughly,” Yancy suggested, from where he leaned in the doorframe sipping coffee. He laughed quietly as both looked to him. Chuck didn’t know what Raleigh’s face looked like, but he knew his brooked no argument. 

“Like hell,” he growled. 

“Besides,” Raleigh countered. “Who started fingering him?”

Chuck’s eyes drifted closed on a shiver at the memory. 

“Man has a right to know his prostate,” Yancy defended.

Raleigh snorted. “So thoroughly?” he shot back, in that way of younger siblings everywhere. 

Yancy just saluted him with his coffee and took another sip. 

“Are _either_ of you going to let me try and reciprocate?” Chuck sighed, buttoning up. 

“You complaining?” Raleigh teased. 

Despite himself - and the last three days of intro to sex with hot brothers 101 - Chuck could still feel the flush rise and consume him. 

“Oh Jesus,” Yancy groaned. “Chuck, if you want to make your ride, you better leave right now.” He tossed his boots at him and while Chuck caught them, he made no move to do as requested. 

“And why is that?” he asked, knowing perfectly well and delighting in the ability to torment them a little. 

“Because if you don’t, I’m tackling you into that octopus and we’ll all be court martialed by lunch.”

For effect, Raleigh leaned forward and pawed at Chuck’s ankles. 

“I’ll put them on and leave. I’ll even make it to call on time. IF you let me tie you up tonight.”

“Is he _serious_?” Raleigh gasped. With Chuck’s back to him, the younger Becket couldn’t see his face, but looking at Yancy’s was all he needed in answer. “Oh _fuck_...”

“Tie you up and let me have my way with you.”

“He’s serious,” Yancy responded belatedly, with a dry swallow. 

“ _Both_ of you.”

“Oh ho, I like this kid,” Raleigh commented. “We should keep him.”

“All right,” Yancy replied, raising his chin to meet the challenge. “Deal. But, only if you’re out of here in three-”

“That is _cold_ , Yance!”

“Two.”

“Jesus, Chuck! Move your ass!”

Chuck grabbed Yancy by his sleep tank and hauled him into a kiss, forestalling the countdown. Turning, he ducked and drew Raleigh into a kiss by a hand to the back of his head, raised his boots in triumph and darted out the door. 

Yancy pointedly waited for him to be clear before finishing. “One. That little punk!”

Raleigh’s laughter carried all the way to the elevator. 

Striker’s head lowered, his nose pressing against Chuck’s chest and inhaling. He rumbled in approval, and nosed Chuck below the jaw. He’d taken to greeting Chuck with more and more approval since he, Yancy and Raleigh had fallen in together. They still hadn’t much talked, more, taken advantage of the thrill of being together again, and for real now. They would need to do so eventually, Chuck knew. There was far too much left unsaid, and even more unknown. But, for now, he was loathe to ruin the harmony and he suspected so were they. Unless something crucial came up, he doubted they’d get around to it anytime soon. If at all. 

_I am glad you’re so happy, Chuck,_ Striker told him mind to mind. 

“I am,” he agreed with a grin, patting Striker’s nose. 

Max barked and Striker’s head lowered the better to receive the affectionate licks Max doled out indiscriminately. Chuck crouched down to scrub at his sides. He’d been spending a lot of time with Dad, holed up in LOCCENT or Stacker’s office and his private quarters. Spending time with Uncle Scott and Lucky, with Stacker himself, with Striker, but he’d seen little of Chuck of late. Most had as he’d taken to spending all his free time seducing the Becket brothers into acts of every kind of carnal pleasure. 

_You are thinking about them._

“How can you tell?” he asked, looking up with a smile. 

_The desire thickens._

Chuck coughed to cover the choke and Striker made an amused rumbling noise. He stretched, angling his body to maximize the movement. 

_Shall we leave now? I’d like to return and spend some time with the youngling when they arrive post rounds._

He grinned. Mako may be the only one on active duty for the moment, but Jazmine and their dragonling - in true bonded Ranger showing - had taken to making rounds wherein they dropped in on Mako to harass her at work (Jazmine) and seek the lack of affection otherwise felt in her absence (their dragonling). It was a necessity, and thus both unquestioned and tolerated - if not outright endured, where Jazmine was concerned - though Mako did her best to keep as much semblance of order as could be maintained given her circumstances and bonds. 

They used the single harness which was lighter and better streamlined for solo flight. It consisted of a modified saddle that fit comfortably against the base of the dragon’s neck, and tucked behind the shoulders and just below the wings for added security. Chuck didn’t bother with any gear. His jacket was warm enough, and he enjoyed feeling the flow of air when he could. There was something about flying with a dragon for nothing more than the simple joy of flying, and Chuck had long ago been hopelessly lost to it. 

They didn’t patrol so much as head west and circle back. Striker’s wings beating strong and hard to carry them up and guide them about in what was at first a leisurely exercise, which rapidly disintegrated into an all out aerial show. Chuck was safely locked in, at the waist and feet, thighs tucked close to the leather seat. He kept low, raising himself when necessary and leaning into turns with the practiced ease of a fully acclimated Ranger - a person lost to dragon society forever, and happily so. More extensions of dragons themselves than individuals of any race, class, sex or other distinction which humans found important and dragons did not. 

They were enjoying themselves. At ease in the shared company and their familiarity with one another. Which was how the Kaiju got the drop on them. One moment, there was nothing but sea and sky and the next they were tumbling sideways. A large, winged Kaiju had sprung from the sea and collided with them, throwing them wildly off course. Chuck very nearly unseated and clung to the handgrips at either side of the saddlehorn he’d never before had need for. Striker roared, fangs and claws grappling instinctively. They rolled several times, the Kaiju trying to force Striker into the water. Chuck wasn’t suited and thus wasn’t protected, and as locked in as he was, if they went down and under, he’d drown in minutes - trapped and quickly drawn to pressure depths that would burst capillaries. Dragons could swim, and all PPDC dragons were given special care, attention and training to ensure they knew how to handle themselves in the event of a submergence. But, underwater was not where dragons were at their best, or most comfortable, and too long, without a Ranger to calm and direct them, and even they could drown. Instinct taking over and forcing them to fight, instead of calm and reroute resources. 

At the moment, Chuck was more hostage than helpful, as the Kaiju tried to kill him and Striker tried to protect him. Losing track of everything but keeping Chuck alive and safe. Chuck tried calling to him, appealing to him, but Striker was caught in an instinct and without his dad to help, Chuck couldn’t get the dragon to _listen_ , let alone respond. 

They didn’t have any gear. No equipment. Chuck couldn’t help Striker any more than holding on so the dragon wouldn’t be forced to enter a dangerous - and likely deadly to both of them - dive to catch him if he fell. With a great roar, Striker’s jaws spread wide and he spewed molten sludge. The Kaiju screeched in agony and Chuck rose from his seat, tightened his grip and screamed, “AERIE!!”

Striker broke away and dove, wings beating frantically at the code. When dragons fell prey to their own base instincts it was very difficult to get them to come back ‘round. It took time and energy they simply did not have. In such an event, with their backs to the walls and the knowledge of the possibility of back up in the form of other Jaeger teams, Rangers and their dragons were trained with a single coded command: Aerie. It spoke to the dragons even on an instinctual level, the safety of numbers and higher ground. For the Rangers, it was a simple, easily recalled and issued command that brought a sense of peace and the promise of reinforcement. 

They were the fastest team in the PPDC, yet the Kaiju was on them again, riding the air currents that trailed in Striker’s wake. Chuck looked over his shoulder and threw his whole body sideways as the Kaiju spat a glowing, viscous liquid at them. Striker banked hard in the same direction and they rolled several times before leveling out. The Kaiju couldn’t turn as quickly, but it barely had a chance before Lucky and Gipsy were on it. They were missing their Rangers, having come to their aid out of instinct, and the connections dragons shared with their family groups. Chuck and Striker turned about, despite the pair of females protests they continue on and armor up. They wouldn’t leave their family - slower and in endless states of recuperation - to handle the Kaiju alone. Lucky and Gipsy rallied, each grabbing the Kaiju by a wing and tearing sideways. It let out an unbearably high pitched scream, which left it in the perfect position to swallow a plasma burst. Striker didn’t stop at the expulsion, jaws clamping about its neck and tugging. 

Between the three dragons, they tore the Kaiju apart, letting the pieces fall to the ocean below in large hunks that spurted neon blue all the way down. Together again, and of like mind, the trio flew off, in a V shape to protect Chuck and one another. 

By the time they made it back, alarms were sounding and people were running from everywhere, scrambling in readiness. Striker landed hard, and Chuck’s stomach caught the saddle. He slumped over, winded. 

“CHUCK!!” cried several voices. 

Striker roared, wings flaring and fangs bared. When he settled again, only his tail touched the ground, long neck extended, head high to observe everything around him. His father and both Beckets ran clear up Striker’s tail, with the nimble grace of practice and familiarity. Yancy and Raleigh had never been up before, but they navigated it surprisingly well, only a few steps behind his father, who dropped down behind him and aligned their bodies. 

“Shh...Chuck,” he soothed, laying his head atop his son’s. “Let go, son. It’s okay, let go.” His hands closed over Chuck’s gently, bringing Chuck’s attention to the fact that he’d been so caught up in keeping Striker from rabbiting that he’d fallen into it himself. Had let Striker sweep him up in instinct and desperation. His muscles tense and spasming slightly with how closely clenched they were to keep him small and positioned. 

Hands smoothed over his thighs, two to each side as Yancy and Raleigh eased themselves down and into his line of sight. 

“Chuck,” Yancy murmured, a hand freeing itself from his thigh to cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek softly. The elder Becket leaned in and kissed him. It was a moment or two before Chuck responded, and when he did it was slowly. But, Yancy was used to leading and Chuck followed in full trust, and soon they were actively kissing. 

A hand pressed to his chest, and Yancy drew back as Chuck turned his head and Raleigh leaned in to kiss him. Their kiss was more eager, slightly tinged with desperation and relief. “Come on, baby,” Raleigh murmured, rubbing his arm. “You’re safe now.”

“We’ve got you,” Yancy assured him. 

Together, they eased Chuck’s knees from their locked position, hands stroking him, caressing, leading and teasing in small brushes and long, supportive sweeps. He couldn’t feel his father against him anymore, but he could still feel him at his back - their connection strong. They eased him up, slow and steady, sandwiching him between them protectively. Gentling him, seducing him until he was up, legs shaking and footing unsteady, even after years of confident handling. 

His father held back, followed at a pace as Yancy and Raleigh slid slowly down Striker’s tail, Chuck in tow. Generally, Rangers took the motion quickly and efficiently, leaning in and riding the natural contours until they reached the tip. But with Chuck shaken and in some measure of shock, they went as slowly as they could to keep both him and Striker calm. The dragon watching anxiously, head atop Gipsy’s, where she nuzzled him supportively, side pressed to Lucky’s. 

“Can he ride?” Tendo asked, with an apologetic look. “We need Striker out there. Marshall’s orders.”

“I can ride,” Chuck assured them, before either of his lovers, or his father could respond. The three of them looked at one another, and then the brothers nodded and hauled him off, one arm about each of them and leaning heavily into them to brace against uncoordinated limbs. 

“Striker!” he heard his father call, voice coaxing but infused with command. “Come on, we need to saddle up.” He could hear the heavy sound of the sure pat of a loving hand to dragon hide. 

“I’m fine,” he assured, though neither had asked.

“No, you aren’t,” Raleigh replied, voice tight. 

“But you will be,” Yancy finished, pushing open the locker room door.

They sat him down on a bench against his protests and eased into removing his clothes. They did it leisurely, kissing him, hands moving with the unhurried, methodical actions of lovers. Chuck closed his eyes, leaning back into Raleigh’s strength as Yancy kissed down his belly. Raleigh mouthed his neck, hands trailing up and down his arms warmly. His head fell back over Raleigh’s shoulder, hands curling in Yancy’s soft blond hair. 

Yancy settled between his legs, spreading Chuck’s knees wide. Raleigh slid against his back, knees pressed to the bench on either side of him as his hands slid down and around, smoothing down his front and over his hips. Chuck dropped back, bracing his hands against the treated wood on either side of Raleigh’s thighs. Yancy blew against the head of his cock and Chuck’s body jolted, arching up into the attention. 

Raleigh slipped free of him, pausing a moment, hands to his shoulders to ensure he could support his own weight, before moving around him to join Yancy. Chuck groaned loudly as their mouths came into contact with his cock. Lips, tongues and teeth teasing his body into an inferno of want and need. Neither took him into their mouth, neither mouth did more than sweep gently but determinedly by across the head. He cursed, dropping back onto his forearms and raising his hips. They continued to bypass it, fluctuating from alternating movement on either side of his hard flesh, and working in perfect tandem. The new angle allowed them access to his hole, and they both abandoned his cock entirely to race one another across his balls and perineum toward it. His cock met nothing but air as he thrust up sharply, needing friction, needing tight heat, and getting none of it. Yancy hooked his arms about Chuck’s hips, hauling his lower half up so he could bury his face in his ass. Raleigh stepped around then, and took Chuck’s cock into his mouth. For the second time that afternoon, Chuck could only hold on, hands gripping Raleigh’s thighs. The position sent all the blood to his head, to accompany the sensations the brothers were eliciting. Pleasure spiraling in wild swaths as they surged forth, pooling in his skull. 

They were so distracted, they hadn’t quite taken their positions into consideration, or perhaps hadn’t thought Chuck would be so opportunistically inclined. So involved in caring for him, neither paid much attention to where his hands ended up, or what they did there. Raleigh hissed as Chuck’s hand drew him free and his mouth closed about him, body jerking. He released Chuck’s cock with a soft pop and gripped his sides. “Ahh...Chuck...don’t…” But he leaned into the attention. Yancy pulled away to look, groaned, and then magnanimously rearranged them. Lowering Chuck so he could lay against the bench and avoid the head rush. 

“Let him, Rals,” was all he said, before tugging Chuck toward him and drawing his knees to his chest by means of positioning his thighs. He went back to his attention, and Raleigh kicked out of one leg of his pants and straddled the bench so Chuck could have his fill. 

“How are you so _good_ at this?” he panted, hands dropping to the bench on either side of Chuck as his knees gave out. Chuck smirked around his mouthful, angled his head and deep throated him. “FUCK!” 

His outburst startled Yancy, who shifted his weight to look around at them. “Oh God, Rals, you should _see_ this.” 

Raleigh’s body trembled above him. “You should _feel_ this,” he responded, breathless. 

Yancy smirked. “You little shit,” he accused with a laugh. “You fucking _practiced_!”

“God!” Raleigh exclaimed, in realization. “Chuck….Chuck...I can’t…”

Chuck swatted him on the ass playfully, holding Yancy’s gaze as best he could. Watched his eyes darken further as lust swelled within him. Raleigh needed no further explanation. Settling his weight, he began to thrust. Chuck did his best to hold still, this part at least new to him. When he’d first learned that his interest in the Beckets was returned, and after they’d decided to wait five years before trying, he’d decided those five years would be in his benefit. Yancy and Raleigh were beautiful, confident, sexual creatures, whom he had had no such fantasies about maintaining _any_ innocence. 

He’d been young but determined and had promptly set out to train himself. He was as ruthless in his sexual training as he had been in his Jaeger training, with the same singular self-sufficiency. He didn’t want, nor did he actively encourage or seek out others to engage in sexual acts. He did however, watch a lot of whatever he could get his hands on. He read manuals and guides, joined a few forums, and in secret, snuck out and purchased a few sex toys. He hadn’t known how large either Becket was, so over the years he had collected a fair range of lengths and girths. He’d been a teenage boy, and even wanting them to be his first experience, couldn’t contain the desire to engage in fantasies. A good deal of his free time was spent in his room, practicing how to suck cock, developing techniques which he’d based entirely on trial and error as well as what he’d learned from others and the books. He hadn’t had feedback, for more than a few times, when he uploaded his cyber toys and linked in to a few random strangers on the net. He hadn’t known anything about them and they’d known nothing about him. He’d stubbornly maintained a curtain of silence, which worked for several of his cyber partners. It had been a necessary evil in his mind, and not cheating as long as he only touched the toys and kept radio silence. Their input and feedback had helped him perfect a technique he was comfortable with, and once his skills were pronounced across the board, had cut all connections and returned to practicing on toys alone. 

He’d slowly, methodically worked through all his fantasies until he could take two dildos up his ass. It never worked out well when he had to use all his resources to keep them in. Contorted in odd positions, hands clutching the edges to keep them inside, let alone positioned. It had rarely worked for him - too distracted by the effort to enjoy the results - but when it did, he’d always left himself a panting, twitching mess. And had always lain in bed and thought of how it would feel to come and be held. How much better it’d feel when he wasn’t all scrunched up, arms straining and fingers cramping. When they would move, when _they’d_ be in control, and he would be free to enjoy himself. 

He’d been planning to surprise them for his eighteenth birthday, but-

“Chuck! Chuck! Oh, fuck...I’m gonna come!” 

Yancy rocked forward and the brothers kissed. Raleigh gasping and making small whining noises that Chuck thought _might_ be words - or attempts at them - but were too garbled to make sense of. The noises he was making spurned Yancy on, arousing him further, and Chuck had to hold back a smile - so as not to lose suction - when he heard Yancy undo his pants. 

Yancy was larger than Raleigh, Chuck noted idly, as the elder Becket’s cock aligned with his. Yancy had shoved his pants down, nearly toppling over as he tugged a leg as free as he could - the opposite of Raleigh’s - and brought his hips down to meet Chuck’s. Chuck moaned as Yancy’s hips made winding circles, before pressing down and thrusting against him. 

The first bangs to the door were drowned out by Raleigh’s cry as he came deep in Chuck’s throat. The sensation was new and while expected, was unfamiliar and Chuck struggled to swallow and not choke. Raleigh pushed himself up enough to free himself from Chuck’s mouth in an attempt to save him. Chuck gasped and swallowed, and kissed the inside of Raleigh’s thigh in thanks, hands sweeping over his ass and wishing they had more time. 

The next bangs were accompanied by a gruff voice. “Striker Eureka, suit up!”

Raleigh rolled over until he’d dropped free. The door was locked, but they had very little time left. Yancy thrust against him in earnest and Chuck began to meet his thrusts. They were so enthusiastic, they began to slide off the bench. Chuck thought it might be worth it, but then the banging came again. “Ranger Hansen!”

“He’ll be right out!” Yancy snapped. 

With a grunt, he pushed himself up, pulling Chuck with him. He drew Chuck’s legs about him, then moved to sit. It aligned them better, and Chuck leaned back as far as he could, arms locked about Yancy’s neck and shoulders. 

When he could feel himself getting close, he gripped Yancy by the hair and drew their brows together. “I want you to come in my mouth,” he rasped. 

“After...you…” he responded, and dragged Chuck into a rough kiss. 

“Allow me,” Raleigh interrupted, slipping between them. He’d redressed, and had stretched out over the bench so he could put his head in the space between their abdomens. He lapped at them, toyed briefly with taking both in his mouth, and otherwise pushed all the right buttons, just in time to catch Chuck’s load. 

Chuck pushed himself up, slightly unsteady with the force of his release, and dropped between Yancy’s spread legs, taking him into his mouth. He didn’t even get a chance to do anything fancy. Yancy’s hands caught in his hair, he thrust up to meet him, once, twice, and then exploded. 

They sat there for a moment, the three of them, just taking it in. 

“RANGER HANSEN!” came the shout, accompanied by a few more bangs. 

Chuck groaned and pushed himself up. “I’m going to rip his arms from their sockets,” he growled as he stood. 

“Leave him to us,” Raleigh replied with a fond smile. He remained where he was, leaning against Yancy. “You be careful out there.”

“Mmm,” he agreed, pulling on his pants. They were all he really needed, and after kissing each of them deeply, opened the door and turned up his chin at the soldier with his hand poised to interrupt again. 

The soldier looked unapologetic, but slightly abashed after his eyes had followed the obvious signs down Chuck’s form. From his messy hair to his swollen lips, to the glistening trails of sweat and saliva over his bare chest. He supposed Raleigh might have left a hickey or two, and his pants were slightly askew. Chuck just grinned and swaggered off to get suited up. 

His father said nothing as he locked in, though he did sigh. The Drift tended to bring newer memories to the fore most prominently as they were fresh and as yet unknown to the dragon. And as both Rangers experienced the same shared information, it could be a little more informative than either would have ordinarily engaged. Chuck just smiled at his father and tugged his helmet on. 

Striker reared, roaring with full wings extended, and they were off. 

Leatherback was _enormous_. 

The Marshall had ordered Striker to hang back, while Cherno and Crimson engaged, but even together, they struggled to subdue it. It was by far the largest Kaiju Chuck had ever seen, and he was anxious over the prospect that they might not be enough. Crimson was nimble, but she lacked bulk. And while Cherno was strong, she wasn’t all together fast. 

The Kaiju also had an advantage. Their K-Science division had informed them of a hive mind mentality, which meant Leatherback knew all their strengths and weaknesses, while they were left playing catch up, knowing essentially _nothing_ about it. Which it proved almost immediately by feigning an attack on Cherno, and swiftly turning those jaws on Crimson instead when she and the Weis darted in for an attack. Chuck felt his heart seize as those monstrous jaws clamped about her. She was so lithe as to look fragile in its grip, and he feared she might break under the weight of its jaws. But Cherno was ready for it and slammed her clubbed tail into its head. It released Crimson who fluttered into the sea, Rangers and all. 

Leatherback turned, roaring right in Cherno’s face. She staggered sideways and began to shake her head. He and his father looked to one another with like frowns that deepened when Sasha said, “LOCCENT, we cannot communicate with Cherno! Repeat, we have lost communication with Cherno!” Leatherback roared again, stance widening aggressively. Cherno dipped further to one side, losing enough altitude that when the Kaiju reared, she was in range. It lunged from the water, and gripped her. 

They could hear Sasha and Aleksis scream both through their comms, and from across the water, as they were taken down. Cherno screeched in outrage, but was too bulky to turn quickly enough, and even as she rolled, Chuck felt his stomach seize. 

“It’s _killing_ them!” he appealed. 

“Aww, screw this!” his father growled. “Striker Eureka moving out!”

They bore down on it, approaching it quickly enough that it released Cherno in surprise. But as it whipped around, it opened its jaws wide. 

“Striker! Hit it!” Chuck cried. 

Striker released a stream of white hot flame - restrained due to the proximity of a fallen Cherno - just as the Kaiju roared at them. Striker screeched, flailing about. They cried out, trying to get him to respond, but he bucked about wildly and had they not been strapped in, he might have thrown them several miles. 

“ _Striker_!” they called. 

But their dragon didn’t answer, simply thrashed more. 

“LOCCENT! We’ve lost contact with Striker! Repeat, we’ve-”

The blast hit them, and they joined the dragon’s cries of pain with some of their own as certain aspects of their suits reacted, popping and crackling and sparking. 

“LOCCENT? LOCCENT!!!” 

They pulled their helmets off at the same time, unable to speak any longer with them on while the comms were fried. Unable to communicate mentally, cut off from Striker as they were. Their dragon was still managing to remain airborne and out of the Kaiju’s reach, but only just barely, as it continued to screech at them. The more often it released the piercing sound, the longer each bellow became, and the more confused and pained Striker became. 

With nothing left to for them to work with, and a Kaiju bearing down on them, they did the only thing they could do. As one, they dropped their helmets, drew the flare guns strapped to their thighs and pointed. Four bright rockets shot forward, catching the Kaiju in both primary eyes. It reared as it roared, but the flares had been enough of a signal for Striker to give him a direction. He beat his wings once and craned his head, jaws opening wide. 

The Kaiju’s cries of pain as plasma poured from their dragon’s jaws was a new level of agony, but they merely crouched and moved, to be less of a burden to a confused Striker. Leatherback proved to have some intelligence however, for it plunged under the water and they lost track of it long enough for it to circle them and lunge from behind. They cried out as they went down. Striker roared, neck arching back and wings bending at odd angles as they hit the water. Chuck and his father pulled their releases as soon as they submerged, pushing off against Striker’s back and swimming for it. 

Striker thrashed mightily. With no connection to them, he had no way of knowing they were safe. And confused, injured, and under attack, his first response was to protect them. Even when they were no longer attached to him. 

Chuck swam for the first large thing, coming upon Cherno completely by accident. Sasha and Aleksis floated against her, still harnessed tightly. He reached into his boot, drawing a knife and cut them free. Grabbing each Ranger just under the arm, he began kicking hard for the surface. He knew he didn’t have it in him to go back, and if they were going to die, then they’d all die together. No one would be losing their co-pilot if he could help it. 

If their dragon hadn’t been so massive, they’d have never made it. As it was, he mostly pushed off against her, sank back and did it again, conserving energy and using Cherno’s mass to their advantage. The moment his head broke the surface, he gasped in a deep breath. Glad for doing so as the weight of the Kaidanovskys dragged him back under. Cherno shifted, and Chuck’s eyes went wide as her leg slid far enough away that there was no longer any purchase. Fear gripped him and he imagined sinking into the dark water to die with Sasha and Aleksis. Never to know what it was like to truly be with Raleigh and Yancy. To miss all those moments. Days and nights and long weekends and every hour in between. Seeing them every time he looked up. Being with them every moment for the rest of his life. He hadn’t told them he loved them in a long time.

He drew up with all his strength, lifting the Kaidanoskys above him. He wasn’t quite sure what the plan was, but he knew he wouldn’t be dying without a fight. And he would _not_ be letting go. It was all or nothing. 

Massive jaws suddenly closed around them, and Chuck stilled against a large tongue, heart pounding. He could feel them moving, and suddenly, the jaws clamped tightly shut. The tongue pressed them all very gently against the roof of its mouth and it exhaled, water draining around the massive teeth. Chuck fell back in relief. Cherno. They’d been saved by the Kaidanovskys dragon. 

Being within a dragon’s jaws was not a common experience. But, for the moment, he understood it was the safest place she could keep them. He listened to the sounds of the battle outside, resting against her jawbone after pulling her Rangers helmets off and ensuring they were breathing. He could hear Striker’s frantic cries. He’d probably been rolled and was terrified he’d crushed them to death or worse, that they may be drowning. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to reach him, but the connection was well and truly gone. He hadn’t prayed for an awfully long time, but he welcomed the habit his mother had instilled in him as a child back into his heart, calming under the influence of the peace it brought. And then he heard it. 

The sharp, crackling strike of Gipsy’s electricity. He could feel Cherno ground herself, knew the shockwave could carry. The Kaiju roared and charged. Gipsy struck again, and landed a blow with her tail by the sound of it. “Come on, Gipsy,” he cheered as Cherno’s lips peeled back in a snarl that was more about oxygen flow for those in her protection than it’s use as a threat at the moment. “Kick his ass!” 

Cherno lumbered in one direction - presumably _away_ from the battle. He could tell by her gait she was injured, but had no idea how badly. The trip was long, and slow, and at some point - even though she made sure they had regular breezes of fresh air - he passed out. Tucked safely in the corner of his fellow Rangers’ dragon’s mouth, the rocking motion of her movement, her steady breathing, and the adrenaline wearing off coupled with the knowledge that she wouldn’t release them until she felt it was safe to do so, lulled him into unconsciousness, and he went gladly. 

_Chuck!_ came the happy cry, waking him as Cherno settled. 

“What’s that, Baby?” He could hear Jazmine’s voice, muffled and incredulous. 

_Chuck! Chuck!_ cried the voice of her dragonling excitedly. _Cherno has saved him!_

“MEDIC!!” 

_May we please have Chuck?_ the dragonling asked Cherno, very politely for its age - which was without a doubt entirely Mako’s influence. Cherno must have given some visible sign of disinclination, because the dragonling appealed again, this time leading with, _You have brought them home, but they will all need to see doctors so they can be with us again soon. It is a good thing to protect them so they can die in peace, but when they can be restored to you fully, would you rather not wish it so?_

Cherno lowered her head slowly and very gently scooped them up on her tongue, and opening her jaws with some lingering hesitation, deposited all three Rangers upon the floor. 

_Chuck!_ the dragonling exclaimed, nuzzling his face suddenly. Chuck reached up and wrapped his arms around it, hugging tight. 

“Holy shit! Chuck, you’re alive!” Jazmine said nothing else, but turned on her heel and ran off. 

Despite its appeal to retrieve the injured Rangers from the confines of Cherno’s mouth, when the Medical team arrived, the dragonling stepped over Chuck, its little spines raising, wings extending, and fangs bared. Its tail swung over him, lashing in upset. Its head moved against its neck in twitching motions, a combination of its mother’s agile muscles and its father’s sharp eyes, being used to track every human who drew near. 

“Hey, you,” Chuck spoke to it softly, stroking the curve of its chest where its incendiary gland would grow strong enough to spout plasma one day. “It’s okay. They’re going to take care of me.” He looked up at the medical team, raising a brow and adding, “Right?”

They all nodded enthusiastically. The dragonling may be small compared to the older dragons in the Shatterdome, but it was still the size of a Clyesdale, with sharp fangs and claws that could seriously injure them if it felt particularly inclined to use them. 

A roar echoed around them, shaking everything it came into contact with, and Striker suddenly lumbered in. The dragonling scuttled backward enough to expose Chuck to its father’s nose. Striker inhaled a few times deeply, then dropped his snout against Chuck’s chest. His eyes were sorrowful, and Chuck understood that he was still unable to communicate with them. But he’d known Striker since he was an egg, long before he’d grown large, picked a gender and became a parent. Draping his arms across his snout, he leaned forward. Striker lifted him clear of the floor, nuzzling slightly in the soft bumping way of his. 

“I’m fine, really,” Chuck assured them all. “Didn’t even get hurt. Cherno scooped me out of the water and kept me safe the rest of the way.” 

Striker set him down gently, long neck carrying his head to Cherno, who reached out to nuzzle in returned gratitude. If there were other ways for dragons to speak, they’d said everything that needed saying in an instant, because Striker scooped Chuck up, nuzzled his dragonling and walked off with them both, leaving medics unsure of whether to trail behind them or attempt to care for the Kaidanovskys under Cherno’s watchful gaze. 

Chuck figured Cherno was the lesser of two evils - or the Kaidanovskys were more injured than they appeared - for the team watched them go a while longer, before turning to devote all their attention to Sasha and Aleksis. 

By the time they made it to Striker’s pen, Mako, Jazmine, her brothers, his dad and uncle, Stacker Pentecost, Tamsin, Gipsy, Lucky, and Coyote were all waiting. They gave Striker plenty of time to settle in, Herc unprotesting as Striker reached for him and scooped him close, keeping his Rangers safe between his forelegs, below the powerful jaws that could melt the flesh off bones as easily as tearing it. The dragonling wandered in, circled a few times and made itself comfortable. Gipsy and Lucky followed suit, which gave safe passage to their Rangers, and Uncle Scott, Raleigh and Yancy wasted no time in entering. Mako and Jazmine were more sedate, stepping inside, but leaning back against the wall. 

“Your arm,” Chuck said, as his father settled slow and cautious.

“It’ll heal,” his father replied. “Damn Kaiju fell on us.”

“Found the Weis?” Chuck asked. 

His father nodded. “You bring back Sasha and Aleksis?”

Chuck shook his head. “No, Cherno did that on her own. Invited me along for the ride.”

“For which I’m glad,” Herc replied, shifting to take him under his good arm and drawing him into a hug. “Thought we’d lost you.”

Chuck carefully avoided mentioning how they almost had. 

“They all refused to leave,” Jazmine explained. “Even after threat of court martial. Just kept circling.” 

He looked up at his lovers and gave them a supportive smile. They were standing just outside the boundaries of Striker’s forelegs. Respectful and patient, mindful of Striker’s disquiet and the situation they could put them all in if they pushed the matter. But, he could see in them as well, the need to be beside him. To hold him close between them and explore with their hands, not just their eyes. To ensure that he was safe and whole and real and _alive_.

Chuck thumped a hand affectionately against Striker’s foreleg, gaining the dragon’s attention. “You get to cuddle your mate and I can’t be held by mine?”

Striker’s head lifted slightly and he snorted, but when he went back to nuzzling Gipsy, he left a small gap between his claws that closed again after both Beckets had unhesitatingly passed through. 

“Mates huh?” Raleigh commented with a grin as he settled down beside him. 

“Shut it,” Chuck replied, head dropping tiredly to the blond’s shoulder. “Dragon terminology is more efficient.” Raleigh slipped an arm about his waist. 

Yancy settled on his other side and drew both close to his chest, leaning back against Striker’s foreleg. The dragon didn’t so much as stir. “Don’t let him get to you, Chuck,” he soothed, stroking back Chuck’s hair. “Gipsy’s been calling you our ‘little mate’ since she met you.”

Chuck’s brow rose at that. 

Gipsy didn’t help matters by shamelessly admitting, _I have._

Chuck felt his eyelids rapidly gaining weight. His lashes fluttered as he tried to keep conscious and engaged. He’d slept who knew how long in Cherno’s mouth, surely he couldn’t have needed any more! But the feeling of safety was overwhelming. Tucked close between his lovers. In the shadow of his dragon. Surrounded by his family - human and dragon alike. 

“Wait,” he said, suddenly jerking awake. He shifted in their embrace to look up at Gipsy, who he could barely see beyond Striker’s own mass. “Since you _met_ me?! I was _thirteen_!!”

“And wasn’t _that_ a fun surprise,” Raleigh drawled from behind him. 

_I spoke to you,_ she reminded him. _Directly._

“You did,” he agreed. “But, I was still a kid.”

_Not so much so that it was warranted. I had my treasures then._

Yancy and Raleigh both flushed at the term. Clearly they’d never had the horde discussion with Gipsy. Chuck would fill them in later. 

“It was only appropriate,” he said in sudden understanding. 

_Yes._

“What?” asked Raleigh. 

“When Lucky took me off to dinner, you asked Gipsy if she was talking to me. She said ‘It was only appropriate’.”

“Ah,” said Yancy, comprehending. 

“I couldn’t hear _why_ she thought so. Striker had ambled off and Lucky wouldn’t let me hear-...Did EVERYONE KNOW?!”

 _Yes,_ answered Lucky, Gipsy and Coyote in tandem. Striker was still recovering, but his head bobbed in agreement. 

“To be fair,” his Uncle Scott chimed in. “Only the dragons really knew. The rest of us just sort of trusted their judgement and let it ride.”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” he cried, sitting up. He couldn’t comprehend how his life had come down to this, and why he’d never noticed before. Raleigh and Yancy moved with him, but didn’t break contact. “So, all of them knew.” He made a sweeping gesture. “And all of you knew.” His arm flagged back and forth in the general direction of the largest human cluster. “And no one _told_ me?”

“Chuck, sweetheart, what were we supposed to say?” Yancy asked him. “Hi, we just met you, and this is crazy, but apparently we’re soul mates, would you like to hang out so we could get to know each other better? You were _thirteen_!” 

“And Striker wasn’t even gendered yet,” Raleigh added. “So you couldn’t start bonding deeply enough to notice we glowed in dragon sight.” 

“In all honesty, we weren’t sure you’d notice it. We were…” He looked to Raleigh. “Equal parts relieved and terrified when you brought it up in the hospital.”

“ _You_ brought it up,” Chuck countered. “Raleigh _asked_ me.”

“You needed leading,” his lover commented.

“I was _fifteen_!”

“Exactly,” Yancy said. “And if Knifehead hadn’t happened…” He sighed. “We would have waited longer to bring it to your attention.”

“Why?”

“So you could be a kid!” 

Raleigh lay a hand to Yancy’s arm. “It wasn’t easy for us either, okay? Do you know how much _questioning_ you do when you’re faced with something like that? We were older than you, there were _two_ of us...We thought…” He bit his lip, curled his hand into a fist and beat his thigh once with it, spurring himself on. “We thought you’d be disgusted.”

“I’m sorry, have either of you ever _looked_ in a mirror?”

They both swatted him affectionately. Yancy in the head, Raleigh against the ass. It spoke a lot about their characters, and general positioning. 

“I was _twenty-one_ ,” Raleigh informed him. “Yance was even older!”

“Gee thanks, Rals.”

“ _We_ were freaked! We’d thought you’d be too!”

Chuck flexed his foot. “Actually, I was relieved.”

“You were?” they asked in unison, heads cocking at the same time in opposite directions as they looked down at him. 

Chuck exhaled, loathe to move, but they deserved to have this conversation out, even if it included everyone. Not that it mattered much, because apparently, it always had. So what would be the difference? He pushed himself up. 

“It’s...unsettling being a kid and realizing you have feeling for someone older than you. But you weren’t just older, you were _Rangers_. You had status and reputations and a dragon, with the foremost Kaiju kills already on record. I thought, ‘Well, okay, I fancy them. Nothing odd there. But then...it _was_ different. I could feel it, and I didn’t know what it was. And when Knifehead…” They each closed hands about parts of him and squeezed in support. Chuck licked his lips. “I just _lost_ it. I know everyone blamed Striker, and he was okay with that.” Striker made a rumbling noise. “But, it wasn’t just Striker. You know it wasn’t.”

The Beckets nodded. They’d had that discussion years ago. 

“And I...Well...Finding out you were _mine_...It changed things. It...I dunno. I was _happy_. We had to wait, but I was _happy_.”

“It was weird for us too,” Raleigh said. “At first, even though we knew, we didn’t really feel any different. Like, you were a cute kid - which you _know_ , you smug asshole - but that was the extent of it. It sort of felt like we were adopting you in the beginning.”

“Gipsy said it was perfectly natural and the few other dragons we approached about it supported her claim. Though, they didn’t see anything wrong with the age difference themselves.”

“Because dragons,” Raleigh finished for him. 

“But, we weren’t any more attracted to you than this desire to really get to know you. To bring you into our lives.”

“Gipsy said that was normal too. That even soulmates needed to bond before they could find attraction in one another.”

“Which you fucking saw to as you grew up.” It was the kind of comment Chuck was used to hearing from Raleigh, and he was a little delighted when Yancy was the one who uttered it. 

“By the time you were eighteen, you didn’t know it, but you had us well and truly fucked up,” Raleigh informed him. “So when you took us aside to talk about your birthday…”

“You were still young. You had your career spread out ahead of you, and we’d realized ours was over. We were dealing with a lot. I’m not excusing it, but, we weren’t in the best headspace then, and we were trying to protect you.”

“We went about it wrong, and we’re sorry we hurt you. But, we’re not sorry that we freed you up to live your life.”

“And we’re definitely not sorry that despite us being assholes, you still came back.”

“Though, we’ll admit, we held out a _lot_ of hope.”

“We’re not stupid enough to let you go again.”

“So, when you said it was appropriate to choose Male over Female,” Chuck asked Striker, looking up at him. “Was this what you meant?” 

Striker tilted his head, then leaned down to nuzzle him affectionately. _One of us had to see to the next generation,_ he replied. It was soft and flickered slightly, but it clearly brought joy flooding through them both, a feeling that radiated out around them in the others with whom they shared their lives. 

“How was everyone so okay with this?” Chuck asked in general as Striker snuffled against his hair. 

“We weren’t, if we’re being honest,” his father said. “But, when you’re connected to a dragon for long enough, you start to realize the world isn’t so black and white.”

“More like greyscale and sepia,” his uncle joked. He’d managed to be invited into the circle and was seated beside his brother, their shoulders brushing in silent support. 

“We argued a lot,” Herc admitted.

“There were some damn creative and frankly disturbingly accurate and detailed threats on our lives and anatomy,” Yancy informed him helpfully. 

“A lot of which we actually had to look up,” Raleigh added. 

“In the end though,” Scott said. “What any of us wanted didn’t matter, and that made things easier. Because it wasn’t about us. It was about you. And once you reciprocated those feelings…”

“There were a hell of a lot more threats,” Raleigh finished for him, jovially. 

“But we realized you’d probably want them to keep all their bits, so it was mostly good natured.” Uncle Scott smiled. 

“They’re _still_ threatening us,” Yancy added, with a grin of his own. 

“Never gonna stop,” the elder pair of Australians informed them matter of factly. 

“But, at least we can’t get you pregnant, so there’s a whole load off,” Raleigh joked. 

“People trusted in their dragons,” Stacker said. 

“And it wouldn’t be the first time,” Tamsin added with a grin. 

Chuck looked back and forth, eyes widening slowly. “The _both_ of you?!” he cried in abstract horror. 

“Oi!” Scott snapped. “You should not be throwing stones.”

“Christ,” Chuck mumbled, scrubbing at his face with a hand. “That was not an image I needed.”

“Which is why Striker and I decided to keep that to ourselves,” his father agreed.

“You fucking traitor,” Chuck rasped. 

Striker rumbled in amusement. 

“I can’t believe Stacker Pentecost has been fucking my dad _and_ my uncle at the same time,” Chuck bemoaned, raking both hands over his face. 

“I can’t believe that’s still bothering you,” Raleigh teased. 

Chuck glared at him, which made him laugh. He threw his towel aside and climbed on the bed. “Is it the fact that they’re brothers or that they’re related to you?”

“Love, if I had an issue with fucking brothers, we would be having a very different conversation right now.” 

Yancy chuckled from where he was sprawled out beside them, face in a pillow. 

They were supposed to be resting, but the nap in Cherno’s mouth followed by the information spill had Chuck wired. Yancy - who never needed much incentive to fall asleep - was only half listening, eyes closed and body relaxed. And Raleigh was as attentive as ever, if somewhat distracting for still being naked. They’d all taken quick - unsexy - showers to detox from the Kaiju battle. And had retreated to the bed one at a time, keeping one another company until they were all through. Yancy and Chuck had both put clothing on - light sleep pants for the blond, a pair of boxer-briefs for the redhead - but Raleigh just dropped down bare as the day he was born and drew Chuck into his arms. 

Yancy snaked a hand out to tangle with Chuck’s, but otherwise didn’t move. His arm extending across the bed slightly, though he was taking up the majority of it, sprawled as he was. 

“If I can just further gross you out for a minute,” Raleigh said, lips to Chuck’s brow. “You come from a very unfairly attractive family and half the Shatterdome would screw all three of you at once if given the chance.”

Chuck’s nose wrinkled, but he smiled as twin rumbles of laughter assaulted him from both sides. 

“You’re not so bad yourselves,” he told them. 

“Yeah, well, clearly you lucked out.”

Yancy’s face turned into his pillow as he laughed hard. Chuck caught a snort or two, but let them slide. The bed shook slightly with the force of it, which warmed Chuck’s insides.

“Now, if we’re done focusing on the sex life of our commanding officer, I have a few ideas to pass the time.”

They couldn’t indulge as much as they wanted to - they were all on call now and the Shatterdome was in the middle of a frantic eight hour rehaul - but they managed to keep one another entertained. Yancy even woke up to participate. 

“I don’t like this plan,” Yancy said with a frown. “I don’t like this plan at all.”

“Hear me out,” Newt urged. 

K-Science had had some sort of breakthrough and Doctors Geiszler and Gottlieb had interrupted a mission briefing to bring the Marshall up to date. 

“No one likes this plan,” Raleigh agreed, arms folded across his chest. “It’s a shit plan.”

“Rangers,” the Marshall ordered. In one word calling them all to order. It never ceased to amaze Chuck how capable Stacker Pentecost was. Accomplished and level headed, always prepared and so adept at engagement on multiple levels that he’d been screwing his uncle _and_ his father for at least the past five years and Chuck hadn’t even been suspicious. 

He groaned and rubbed at his face with an open palm. 

“Stop thinking about it,” Jazmine whispered in his ear from behind him. 

“Can’t.”

“You screw my brothers stupid on a daily basis, you don’t see it keeping me up at night.” 

“Jaz, I’d _love_ to do nothing more than screw your brothers stupid, but unfortunately, I’ve been on call since I bleeding arrived!” 

Someone cleared their throat. 

Chuck looked up to find several eyes on him. Some of which were reprimanding. Most of which were amused. His uncle was clearly trying not to laugh outright. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, head ducking. 

Conversation picked up after a moment. 

“The dragons will never go for it," his dad said. “It’s far too risky.” 

“I agree,” chimed Uncle Scott. “They’re not about to risk our lives on something that might not even work. And no one here is willing to risk their dragon’s life for the same reason.” 

“It’ll work,” Newt assured them. “But you have to time it just right.”

“Keep higher than them,” Hermann added. “Or the drop will never successfully attach.” 

“What’s to say the payload will even attach?” asked Raleigh. 

“Genetics,” replied the pair of scientists. 

When they were met with more than a few stares, Newt explained, “We’ve been over this. They’re essentially clones.” Several people nodded, but Newt continued on regardless. “Basically, what that means is, we already have an advantage, because we have more than enough samples to code.” 

“And you’re sure they’ll take?” Yancy asked, dubious. 

“Pretty sure, yeah.”

“So, you’re asking us to make a run at the Breach in a last ditch effort to spare ourselves from being overrun, with nothing to go on but blind faith, a few half baked theories and genetically encrypted nuclear warheads that may or may not attach to the intended targets?” Herc asked. 

“Scientific evidence and mathematical theory,” corrected Hermann. “But, essentially, yes.”

“Right, this plan sounds wonderfully sane,” drawled Uncle Scott. “Almost certain failure, high risk of maiming, good chance of death.” He clapped his hands together, the sound sharp, but somehow focusing. “So, who’s going?” 

“Striker Eureka, you’ll carry the payload,” the Marshall informed them. “Cherno can’t fly and you’re the fastest. Herc, will you be able to manage?”

“Lived through worse. Strap my arm to my side and I’ll be right as rain.” 

“Gipsy and Romeo will be back up. Ms. Becket, we’re going to need to borrow Ms. Mori.”

“Borrow her?” Jazmine asked, straightening. 

“Tamsin can’t ride,” Stacker said, looking sideways at his partner. She smiled at him and then Jazmine. When Tamsin had been injured during the battle of Tokyo against Onibaba, they hadn’t expected her to live. She’d refused to die in a hospital bed and Stacker had ensured she was moved, brought to Coyote, to die with the peace and dignity a Ranger deserved. The doctors had been furious, but there had been precious little they could do at the time. No one would speak of how the move had saved Tamsin’s life, but against all odds, she’d survived. Her vitals evening out until she was thriving. But whatever had happened to save her could not negate the damage done to her spine, and as such, she was incapable of being aloft for more than a simple glide around the ‘Dome, and not a very long one, at that. “Mako is our only child, and while not of our blood, Coyote accepts her as a legacy bearer.”

Mako sucked in a breath as if finally understanding the Marshall’s line of thought. Her eyes widened, but she straightened, setting her arms to her sides respectfully. 

“I need a co-pilot. And Mako is my only option.”

“You coming along, Stacker?” his father asked. He didn’t sound surprised, but he didn’t sound pleased either. A strange combination of fond, amused, and frustrated. His father could no sooner change the Marshall than the weather, regardless of how many years they’d been together. Chuck wondered whether Uncle Scott had been with them since the beginning. 

His eyes drifted to his uncle, but Scott looked more upset that he and Lucky would not be able to go as well. Lucky had recovered far better than Coyote, and had been active more recently. But, without his father...Chuck felt guilty, and for the first time, inadequate as a Ranger. He’d had no control, of course, over who Striker would accept. And Striker had never shown any interest in his fellow cadets, even his closest friends. But, he hated that he’d essentially stolen his father away when his uncle had still needed him most. 

He’d missed what’d been said he realized, when hands graced his back. He looked up into the faces of his lovers and gave a small smile. 

“We need to talk,” Yancy said. 

Chuck blinked. “Are we dismissed?”

“Yeah,” Raleigh sighed, not bothering to tease him over not paying attention. 

“Come on,” Yancy soothed, sliding an arm around him. 

Raleigh stepped into his side and followed. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” his elder lover said when they’d paused outside the flightsuit room. “Don’t focus on anyone else. You pay attention to what you’re doing, and you do what needs to be done and you get the hell out of there. No heroics, Chuck. Don’t even be _selfish_.” He took his hands, squeezed them in his own and drew them up to kiss his knuckles. 

Chuck inhaled sharply, feeling a weight sink in his gut. 

“Don’t you _dare_!” he snapped, trying to yank his hands back to no avail. “Don’t you fucking say _goodbye_!”

“Chuck…” Raleigh’s fingers slid feather light down his back, following his spine. 

Chuck bucked. “No! NO!”

Raleigh’s hand paused to splay low against his back. “We don’t want to, but we have to,” he said. “You know why.”

He swallowed.

Gipsy had shown remarkable recovery, but she wasn’t what she once was. They’d trained and prepared, and had even seen combat again, and lived to talk about it. But, they’d been recruited from retirement and this was no ordinary fight. 

Even Striker, with his speed, would be impeded by the weight of the explosives and slowed by his own injuries. And who knew what advancements the Kaiju they were about to face had been given. Chuck stopped struggling. 

“We love you, Chuck,” Yancy said. 

“We love you so much,” Raleigh added, leaning into him. Chuck was torn between closing his eyes to drink it in, or keeping them open to commit every detail to memory. In the end, he couldn’t look _away_ from them, not if it was in fact, to be the last time. 

“I love you,” he told them. “But, if you don’t do your best out there, I’m going to find you after and kick your asses. You fly, you fight, you bring yourselves home.” He reached out, gripping each by the neck and bringing them close until all their brows met. “I have plans for us,” he murmured. “So many plans. Don’t you dare disappoint me.” 

Yancy laughed quietly. Raleigh closed his eyes and pressed his face closer. 

“We owe it to each other and ourselves to try.”

Yancy kissed him softly, then Raleigh. Raleigh returned the kisses in reverse order. As did Chuck, his far more heartfelt, infused with hope, rather than weighed by sorrow. He nuzzled them. “Get back all in one piece,” he told them huskily. “And you’ll know what it feels like to come all over each other _inside_ me.”

Raleigh groaned, but smiled, heart lightened. 

“Is that all?” Yancy replied.

“Yup!” he answered brightly. 

“Have I ever told you…” Raleigh murmured. “I _love_ the way your mind works?”

“Did you practice that too?” 

Chuck grinned. “Well, that’s for you to find out now, isn’t it?” 

There had been more fearsome groups, of that he was certain. As it stood, not a single dragon was without an injury, either fresh or scarred over, disadvantages lingering. They flew in a diamond formation, with Striker on point, flanked by Gipsy and Romeo, Coyote trailing. Their fellow Jaeger teams - Rangers and dragons alike - had stood in customary farewell and saluted, rising from even the worst of sick beds to stand, press two fingers to the chest, just above the heart, and swing their arms out wide, minds, hearts, souls and drifts with them as they flew past. The dragons craning back their necks to roar. 

There had never been a more solemn mood, as they rose to standing and saluted back, holding the gestures on both ends until they could no longer see one another. The Rangers crouching back into resting positions against their dragons’ massive shoulders. There’d never been a direct attack made upon the Breach before. Plans had been drafted, and attempts made, but the Breach had always been prepared, as if guarded for the singular purpose of driving back any countermeasures and maintaining a foothold within their world. 

The time for action was long since passed, and they were all that was left of a short, but brilliant legacy which Chuck knew would last as long as any other dragon tale. There may be bumps, snags, and misappropriations, but a hundred years from now, a thousand, maybe even ten thousand, people would know that there once was a time when the world was near to ending, and of the brave Jaegers, fierce, mighty and powerful dragons and the humans who would always fight beside them. They would know how despite all odds, they’d fought down to the very last of them, and been victorious. Regardless of the loss, their world secured, their legacy maintained. 

Striker found Chuck’s thoughts so inspiring, he freely shared them with the other dragons in their company, who in turn, shared what they perceived as bolstering courage with their own Rangers. 

“That’s the most romantic, motivational suicide run not-speech I have ever heard,” came Raleigh’s comment over the comms. 

“What he means is, that’s beautiful, Chuck,” Yancy replied. “I hope this mission goes even half that well.” 

“It will,” the Marshall informed them. 

“And Trev was just singing,” Bruce said, laughing when Trevin gasped, “Hey!”

“What were you singing, Mr. Gage?” asked Mako. 

“We’re in battle, Mako, call me Trevin.”

“Yes, sir.”

They all chuckled into their helmets. 

“Sea shanty,” he admitted. 

“It’s always a sea shanty,” Bruce interjected. 

“It calms our nerves.” 

Bruce didn’t correct him, which made Chuck smile. In the drift you just were and were accepted for who that was. By dragon and fellow Ranger. It was a heady feeling. He’d miss it when the war was over. 

_It isn’t as if Striker is going to abandon us,_ came his father’s reaction to the thought. 

Striker made a rumbling sound of agreement, head and neck shifting slightly in a nod that maintained the grace of flight, the currents of air rolling off him and down his neck. They briefly swept over the pair of Rangers secured atop his back and Chuck stretched out his arms to better feel it as it passed. 

“How does a sea shanty go?” Mako asked quietly after a moment.

It was a show of nerves, and he had no doubt she was unsure whether admitting such a thing would be considered a positive or negative among her fellow Rangers. But, a first ride into battle was never easy, and anything that would help her relax was all right with Chuck, and his fellow Rangers. For Bruce and Trevin simply responded by beginning a round that the Beckets picked up immediately after. He and his Dad joined in next, followed last by Mako and Stacker. 

Their dragons - drifting with them - seemed to benefit as well. Some of the muscles in Striker’s back untensed, and Chuck could see Gipsy’s wingbeats transition into more of a steady glide. She rode the wind, wings extended, and in so doing, listed slightly less. Yancy and Raleigh reached out at the same time to stroke down the section of her spine that rested between them. 

They sang the entire way. Chuck found, it was an oddly effective means to soothe the bubble of adrenaline that overtook him pre-battle. If their attack was unsuccessful and they survived, they might consider undertaking a similar ritual. Up until that point, they’d mostly spent pre-battle flights coiled tightly like springs, waiting for the moment to release it all upon the Kaiju. But there was something steadying about the rhythmic release that kept the blood beating just quickly enough, but the adrenaline low enough to maintain a steady head. It was no wonder the Gages had once been the top Jaeger team in the PPDC. 

They had it down to an exact science - which was slightly awe inspiring. For as they approached, Bruce and Trevin ended the round and surprisingly switched right into battle mode. Romeo had superior eyesight, something she had not lost in her own maiming. She caught sight of the Kaiju first, and relayed the message to the Gage twins who informed the rest of them over the comms. 

They circled, tip of each dragon’s nose to the tail of the next, as all Jaegers took in the situation. These Kaiju were unlike Kaiju they’d fought before. Aquatic in nature, and unwilling, it seemed to spring out of the safety of the ocean to engage them. 

“We’re going to have to force them out,” Stacker said. “Gipsy, Striker, take an end and herd them into the middle of the formation.”

“Sir!” four voices replied, Striker and Gipsy sliding smoothly into turns that brought them out of the formation. 

“Romeo, take point. We’ll be the bait.”

“Sir!” Romeo beat her wings, arcing upward and steadily gaining altitude. She may be slower now, but she was still accurate and deadly in a freefall, which would make up for any loss in forward momentum. 

“Mako, are you ready?” Stacker asked as the others slipped into position. 

“Hai,” she replied. 

Once they were in motion, Chuck mostly lost track of the others. They were there on his peripheral, and he could hear them over the comms, but his focus was on Striker and their safety as they carried out their portion of the mission. 

“Don’t get too close, Striker!” Stacker commanded as they performed a low sweep, leaving a plasma trail bubbling in the open ocean in their wake. “If those bombs go off-”

“We’re dead,” his dad replied. “We know.”

“As long as we take them with us,” Chuck added in the heat of the moment. “What difference does it make?” 

“Don’t do anything stupid, Chuck!” Yancy chided. 

“Not planning to, love. But, a fight’s a fight. If we have a shot-”

“We’re taking it,” his father finished. 

They banked hard, rolling within reach. A burst of white hot flame - Striker never resulted to anything their suits couldn’t protect them from when there was a chance it might backspray and catch them up in it - catching a fleeing Kaiju right in the face. It screeched and attacked. launching itself out of the water. 

“On your six!” Raleigh cried, and Striker continued the motion, sweeping out of the way to be replaced by Gipsy, too high for the Kaiju to reach. She opened her jaws and lightning crackled and burst from her. It hit it’s mark, landing in the Kaiju’s open mouth as it roared. 

Chuck was thankful for his helmet. The smell of burned flesh was only slightly permeating, and he had no desire to know that smell full on. Striker swept back in, alighting just in front of her, and finishing the Kaiju off with a plasma burst down its already destroyed esophagus. The Kaiju twitched and sunk into the water, plasma leaking from around its eyes and teeth, and small shocks of electricity still jerking its muscles as it sunk. 

The high pitch of Romeo’s release alerted them to her presence and Gipsy and Striker darted out of the way to make room. Romeo dropped like a stone, jaws opening as she approached the water. The other kaiju burst clear in an attempt to meet her in the air and possibly bring her down for potential drowning, but it made the same fatal mistake as its fellow, mouth wide open in challenge. Romeo released the burst, the sound tearing by in all directions. The burst of air and sound hit the Kaiju just in time to send it reeling, half its jaw blow off. She caught herself, leveling and turning to get out of the way. But the Kaiju caught her by the tail, sunk its claws in and dragged her into the deep. 

Coyote bellowed and dove in after her - likely without Stacker and Mako’s agreement - but Coyote was an elemental and the only one among them who would survive, even with her Rangers aboard. 

Striker and Gipsy circled anxiously, watching and waiting as sparks flashed every so often, illuminating the dark water below them. Massive bubbles erupted, spraying geysers clear into the sky. There was nothing they could do but watch and wait. 

It went silent and dark, and Chuck felt his heart stuttering in his chest with worry and unease. Just when it seemed like they may have all drowned, Romeo’s head and the tips of her wings cleared the surface. She roared, expelling water, and with a deep inhale began to furiously flap upward. As she cleared the water, Coyote’s head could be seen, giving her a nudge up. Romeo rose unsteadily, trembling. The Gages pulled their helmets off and dropped forward gasping and coughing. 

Coyote unfurled her wings to their full extension and Chuck spared a moment to be awed. Her wings, which were quadruple jointed, were very rarely fully extended, as they served mostly to keep her aloft, instead of propel her through water. Her wings arced upward gloriously, and in one breathtaking motion, went crashing down into the water. She sprung up as if she’d been launched, water pouring off her in rivers. Another stroke had her above all the rest of them and a third had her nearly out of sight above them. Then they folded in back to the size and shape Chuck was more accustomed to seeing, and she dropped down. 

“Attack formation,” the Marshall ordered. “Striker, Gipsy with us. Romeo, get out of range!” 

Striker and Gipsy rose to get the altitude they’d need to meet Coyte on her downward spiral. Romeo ascended as well, but kept clear of them. 

“Follow us in!” Striker commanded. “We have one chance at this! And Striker and Gipsy won’t be able to make it back out if we miscalculate.” 

“Sir!” they responded. 

They dug their heels in, dropping low to keep as close to Striker’s body as they could and maintain his aerodynamic shape. Coyote dropped and Striker and Gipsy drew their wings close to drop with her. They must have made a glorious sight, the three dragons in such a tight, aggressive formation, and Chuck would have liked to see it. The thought was interrupted as the largest Kaiju he’d ever seen in his entire life rose from the ocean and swung massive tentacles at them. 

Mako and Stacker cried out in surprise as Coyote was rammed from her blind side, the tentacles overtaking her and plunging her, Rangers and all, into the dark water. 

“Gipsy!” Chuck cried. 

“Let’s _do_ this!” they replied.

“On point!” snapped his father. “Do not disengage! Do not disengage!”

They all yelled with all the pent up force within their bodies, Gipsy and Striker roaring in finality and each latching onto the Kaiju’s massive shoulders, their fangs sinking deep. The whole lot of them hit the water hard, rapidly descending. The Kaiju could breathe and began to thrash in earnest, but Gipsy and Striker gave up breath for release, and its body jerked as electricity and plasma swept through it. It was as if their dragons were injecting it, and they rode the descent, not even needing to light the way. In the darkness, the Kaiju’s body glowed, alight with its own natural bioluminescence and their dragons combined attacks. 

“NOW!” he and his father yelled in unison. 

They all dug their heels in and leaned back, urging their dragons to release. 

“Go! Go!” he shouted to his lovers. 

They hesitated, one with their dragon in that moment. Gipsy looked almost angelic, wings spread in the water, tail swayed by the current and long neck fully extended. But, she caught herself as her Rangers gasped “Love you!” clear through the drift, steady and strong. Her entire body twisting sharply as she beat frantically upward, trying to use what strength was left in her to get them to safety. 

“Love you too,” he replied, tears in his eyes. 

He and his father released the payload, hands working furiously before Striker’s own instincts could overtake them. They had a few moments at best, and they made the most of them, Striker doing his best to keep them level as the barbed warheads latched. He swept his wings back in one strong movement, and lowering his head, released a white hot burst so bright that Chuck and his dad both cried out and closed their eyes, arms up and shielding. 

The Kaiju shrieked in alarm, but the damage was done. Through his dragon’s eyes, Chuck could see the Kaiju fall into the opening maw of the Breach, propelled backward into it by the sheer force of Striker’s attack. Their dragon too had used the angle to their advantage, and Chuck felt the water rushing by oppressively as they ascended, riding the backwave clear upward. 

He could just feel Striker make a sharp, desperate turn, before he blacked out. 

When he came to, he wasn’t greeted with anything. His eyes blinking rapidly, but the world still black. Fear engulfed him as his body didn’t respond, no sound, no light, nothing to greet him but endless darkness and stillness. The terror rose, screams bursting his chest clear open, but still, he remained. 

_Chuck,_ came a voice. He knew that voice better than his own. _Chuck! You have returned to me!_

Chuck frantically tried to grab hold of him. Anything to keep from sinking into the darkness again. His hands grappled at nothing, fingers numb and unresponsive, despite his whole being fighting desperately to make purchase. 

_Chuck,_ Striker soothed. _I am here. Be calm; I am here._

Pain lanced through him, and Chuck could feel the tears in his eyes, unable to be freed because of how tightly clenched together they were. 

_Chuck, come to me. Yes, come here. That is good. I am here, come to me._

He could hear a whining noise, high and pained. And his body responded, shaking violently. 

Striker exhaled, low and long and it washed away, leaving Chuck standing in a clearing, beautiful and serene. He gasped, doubling over to catch his breath against the sudden release of agony. Collapsing altogether when his legs could no longer support him. He rolled onto his side, and then his back, sprawling slightly in the cool, sweet grass. 

“Striker?” he rasped, throat tight with emotion more than pain or fear. 

_Rest now,_ was all his dragon would say. Chuck found himself obeying immediately. Eyelids heavy and body slumping in exhaustion. 

When next he woke, he registered the pillows beneath his head. Could feel the sheet spread across him. Could hear the soft beeping of machinery. But he could tell from the smell that he wasn’t in the hospital. The scents of dragon hide and nesting materials far more comforting than anyone ever gave them credit for. 

_Chuck,_ Striker cooed, the edge of his snout nuzzling so lightly it almost felt as if he was merely exhaling over him. Still, it hurt enough that Chuck flinched, breath and a cry catching in his throat as his body seized. Striker made a soothing sound and lay his head over him. Amazingly, the pain stopped, leached from his body through the contact. _Chuck,_ Striker attempted for a second time. _Speak to me, please._

He inhaled a little more shakily than he’d been expecting, but his hands obeyed him - though they trembled slightly - reaching up to stroke the underside of Striker’s snout. 

His dragon made a tittering sound and Chuck could feel his neck shifting through the subtle pressure of his head, though it did not move nor lift free. _Chuck,_ he crooned. _Do not ever do that again. I forbid you!_

 _Did I die?_ he asked, knowing Striker could hear him. 

_Yes._

_Did Dad die?_

_No, though he tried. I did not let him. But you do not listen!_

Chuck smiled - mostly internally. _I’m sorry,_ he apologized. 

_You are never to die on me again. Not until you are very, very old._

He stroked Striker’s scales.

_And even then, I may not let you._

He chuckled, the movement causing a slight twinging sensation in his ribs. _Even you can’t keep me here forever, Striker._

_We are both very stubborn. We will manage somehow._

_I’m sure we will,_ he consoled him.

_And I have spoken with the Beckets and Mako and the youngling._

_What about?_

_When you are well, Jazmine has consented to allow you to sire by her, that you and Yancy and Raleigh may have young of your own, and we may all yet be less alone._

He blinked at that both mentally and physically. “You…” he rasped, and promptly dropped into a coughing fit. “Are you...studding me?” he asked incredulously. 

_You have male mates,_ Striker replied, unrepentant. _Gipsy, Lucky, the youngling, Coyote and I have decided it is in all of our best interests to keep the offspring together, rather than undergo a lengthy process otherwise._

“So you’re… _all_ in on it, huh?” he wheezed slightly. 

_We will outlive you by centuries, even millennia. We wish only to remain together, to jointly cherish your descendents._

“You realize…” he told him, giving in and stroking him soothingly - for both their sakes. Striker had lost him, had felt the loss keenly, and may never recover from it. Chuck was willing to do anything he had to in order to ease that burden and the ticking clock of his mortality as best he could, for his oldest friend. “Any kid the Beckets and I have will probably end up with a dragon of their own? We’re special like that.” 

_You are,_ Striker agreed, a low rumbling sound of happiness vibrating within Chuck.

“As long as you’re prepared for that.”

 _Would that we could keep you forever beside us,_ Striker replied wistfully.

“Striker...if we could...you know we would. Forever and a day.”

 _Forever and a day leaves us with a million tomorrows,_ his dragon purred. 

“Yes…” He felt the weight of Striker’s sadness, and the light a child would bring. He had to admit, he’d not thought much of it - he was young - but a baby with Yancy and Raleigh...that was something he could definitely get behind. “You just let them come,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the underside of Striker’s jaw. “Rest with me. You’ve been vigilant too long.” 

Striker relaxed against him, exhaling deeply. _Perhaps,_ he agreed. _For a moment or two._

Striker slept deeply, head resting gently over Chuck, warming him nearly unbearably. But it was so good to _feel_ again and Chuck was so happy to be _alive_ , he barely minded. 

Max wandered in and took up residence at his side, curling into a ball between his torso and arm and dropping his chin to Chuck’s inner elbow. He couldn’t pet him, trapped as he was, but he drank in the love and attention and let it lull him. 

Chuck’s first visitors were family. Striker only willing to let blood close to him in his weakened state. His father had been banged up pretty badly. His rotator cuff torn, decompression sickness, a collapsed lung, spinal trauma and a head injury. When he and Chuck looked at one another, all broken and bruised, they’d laughed until they were doubled over in pain and Striker forced Herc to lay beside him and have the pain ebbed. His father had taken his hand and laced their fingers and in the safety of the cover of their dragon told Chuck how proud of him he was and just how much he loved him. They never said it - it didn’t need saying. But hearing it...hearing it rocked the foundation of Chuck’s world, and he’d brokenly sobbed that he loved him in return, confusing Striker for a moment, who only felt the pain that lanced through him as the weight lifted free of his chest. 

“Uncle Scott?” he asked later when his dad had drifted off thanks to Striker’s intervention. When you were living with pain, the very release of it was enough to relax anyone into peaceful unconsciousness if given enough time. 

“Yeah, sprog?” he replied from where he sat beside them, legs extended and back to Stiker’s foreleg, Max snoring away in his lap as his fingers stroked endlessly across his back. 

“Have you and Dad…”

“I’ve been waiting for this conversation since you were a kid,” he admitted. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, drawing his legs up into a lotus position to better support Max and give Chuck his entire, unwavering attention. “Ask me. I won’t tell you anything you might not want to hear, so you’re going to have to suck it up and ask me flat out whatever you want to know. I’ll spare you details, but I’ll be honest. All right?”

Chuck nodded. 

Uncle Scott nodded back, back straightening. 

Chuck swallowed, gathering his courage. He didn’t know where to even start. He knew from personal experience just how complicated that sort of relationship was. And he wasn’t entirely certain he even wanted to know. But, if his uncle was willing to tell him, he was willing to risk it. After all, it wasn’t as if his father would be forthcoming. Not even on Chuck’s former deathbed. The reminder made him shiver and he fixed his gaze upon his uncle. “How long?” 

Scott sighed. “Your dad and I...we’ve always had a bit of an odd relationship. Very unconventional, certainly offputting for plenty of people. We’ve always been close, but even when we were young, it was obvious if there was ever a pair of brothers you could fulfill certain fantasies with, we were it. And people tried.” He flagged a hand, waving away any further questions or comments that may follow. “We had our moments - we were wild kids - but things didn’t really come to a head until after your mother died.” He said it gently, but it still stung. Any reminder of the loss of his mother tended to reopen the wound and his uncle gave him all the time he needed to process the renewed loss before continuing. 

“He’d lost so much, there was the very real chance we might lose you...He was angry and hurt and it broke my heart to see him that way. Your dad’s patient and professional, but even he can be pushed.” He sighed. “I knew if I didn’t push him, he’d kill himself keeping it all in. So I did, and we fought. And then...We consoled each other. After, we did what we always did. We let it go.”

“Just like that?” Chuck asked, interrupting him. 

Scott nodded. “Just like that. Your dad and I, we’ve had a rough go of it for a long time and we decided as kids we weren’t going to let fuck ups, no matter how small alter the course of our destinies. We got _really_ good at it.” 

Chuck nodded, swallowing slightly. 

“Stacker came ‘round. You got better. We moved to Alaska. And got Lucky.” He grinned, smile widening when Chuck laughed softly. It was an old family joke that still made them smile, even at their lowest and Chuck appreciated the lightening of the conversational mood. It helped him relax and reminded him of why he was asking in the first place. 

“The drift in adult dragons is _intense_ ,” he continued. “When we first experienced it...A lot of people had black outs, or got sick - there’s something about an established, mature dragon sharing it’s mental space with you without the bond newborn dragons create that just makes the entire process an ordeal. Wouldn’t change it for the world, and you get used to it, but it’s still not as smooth as what you and Herc have with Striker.”

And of course he’d know. He and Herc had drifted a lot when Chuck had been young and in training. His father switching back and forth between them, drifting - apparently - half way with Chuck, and fully with Uncle Scott. 

“For your father and I, the drift brought everything rushing to the fore and we…”

“Couldn’t help yourselves?” Chuck suggested.

“I suppose you could say it like that. Although, in all honesty, it was more than some animalistic compulsion. For the first time in our lives, we could actually _feel_ how we felt about one another. Saw everything. No secret unburied with the adult dragons. You go in all or nothing and you come out the other side or you don’t.”

“Did Dad…” he began and stopped himself. He didn’t need to know the answer to that. It was unfair to everyone he loved to ask it, and he could see the relief in his uncle’s eyes when he abruptly shifted conversational gears. “When did Stacker get involved? Was it the both of you from the start?” 

“It was, and it wasn’t. We weren’t initially assigned to the same Shatterdomes. And when we were, we were on alternating shifts so it took a while before we got to see each other through dragon sight. Once we had, we had no idea what we were looking at.”

“Stacker glowed for you?”

“Brighter than the sun. It was like being blinded.”

“It wasn’t that way for me,” he admitted, wondering if it meant his relationship was somehow worth _less_. 

“You were a kid,” his uncle consoled him. “According to the dragons, at that age there’s still plenty of time to adapt. Yancy and Raleigh were Rangers, a part of a Jaeger. They could have died at any time. Sorry,” he added when Chuck flinched at the reminder of how he’d almost lost them. “But it was true. And as long as you were so young, your soul could have survived the loss. You would have felt like a part of you was gone, like you couldn’t achieve what you’d spent your whole life striving for, no matter _how_ accomplished you became. But you’d have survived. Grown up, moved on, made connections. They would have paled in comparison to what you could have had, and you may have had a difficult time of it, but you still could have found some measure of happiness.”

“But you couldn’t?”

“I don’t know if we could or couldn’t. Herc and Angela were certainly designed for one another. But I’d never found anyone who could make me feel like...Your father was the only one who saw something in me. And he pushed me our whole lives to be better. To not let it drag me down. And when he needed some of that back, I gave it to him, freely, _happily_. We were already friends with Stacker and Tamsin. So when the whole thing came up...At first Stacker _and_ your dad were against it.”

Chuck’s brows rose. 

“Oh yeah.” He laughed. “Herc thought it was too soon and didn’t want to drag you into anything - let alone something so permanent. Stacker thought in the line of work we were in it wouldn’t be appropriate - he’s always been dead set on the rules when he could help it. But Tamsin and I wore them down, and one too many close calls later...Stacker was a parent himself. And after everything with Onibaba and Tokyo, he’d needed the company. After that first night...we all knew we were kidding ourselves to fight it and we entered into a relationship the next morning. And we’ve been together ever since. Without fail or straying.”

Chuck did the math quickly in his head - it left him feeling a little light headed. “Nine years.”

“Ten soon enough,” his uncle replied, smiling. 

“And you let me believe…”

“It was better that way. Your dad had you and Stacker had Mako and we thought it’d be easier on both of you to have that stability.”

“But-”

“I had the people I loved. I knew my love was returned, and I was never denied access to either of them. It was all I needed, all I’ve ever needed, really.” 

“And then I met the Beckets.”

“And then you met the Beckets.” 

“Did all the dragons know?”

“Oh they knew. They enjoyed the hell out of watching the three of you interact, and shared that joy with the rest of us whenever one of us was around to listen.”

Chuck groaned. 

“It was cute.”

“ _Everyone_ knew, but me!” he moaned, a hand over his face.

“You were too young. And before you fight me on that, please take a moment to remember what we discussed about how you’d have survived better.”

Chuck wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Your relationship had to be natural. It had to grow in its own time. And in the beginning, when we found out, we were...understandably concerned. Your Dad and I didn’t want that for you - the confusion and the struggle of it. Stacker didn’t think it was fair for the Beckets. But, it was what it was and we all just had to be patient and let it sort itself.”

“And then I mucked it up.”

“You didn’t muck anything up. You were young and in love and no one faults you for any of it. But, Yancy and Raleigh - being older - knew that if you were going to be happy, they’d have to let you go. You had to have the chance to really _live_ before you gave it all up for them. If you hadn’t, Chuck, you’d have regretted it the rest of your life and it would have poisoned your relationship. Sometimes a little hurt is necessary to grow, and it healed over far sooner and much cleaner than any long term bitterness and regret would have, that much I know for certain.” 

“I would have stayed with them.”

“We know, and so did they. Which was why they did what they had to. They loved you too much to let you suffer for their own misfortunes.”

Chuck nodded. “I never hated them, even after. I _missed_ them all the time. So much so, it physically _hurt_.”

“I know,” his uncle replied softly. “Your father told me. It hurt him so much to have to sit by and leave you to it, but there was nothing we could do but trust that it would all turn out all right in the end. We knew it was for your own good and we had to believe in that, or we would have never been able to move on ourselves and support you the way you needed.” 

“I love them so much, Uncle Scott.”

“I know, sprog.” He reached out to wrap his hand about Chuck’s forearm, giving him a supportive squeeze. “I know.” 

“Are you happy?” he asked quietly.

“Happier than I ever thought I could be.”

“Don’t regret all the things you never got to have?”

“Why waste time on regret when there is so much potential all around you?”

“What about kids?”

“What are you talking about?” he replied, hand moving to grip Chuck’s elbow. “I’ve got me the best kid there ever was.”

Chuck reached up to clasp his Uncle’s forearm. “Thanks, Uncle Scott.”

Scott nodded. 

“I love you.”

His uncle’s face shifted from startled, to surprised, to happy. “Love ya, too, kid.” Chuck had never felt it lacking, but every now and again, he knew, it was nice to hear. 

“I love you,” was the first thing he said to Yancy and Raleigh when they were finally allowed to visit him. They’d been laid up with decompression sickness themselves, and had taken a little longer to recover due to the stress they’d undergone when informed - by Gipsy because no one else had wanted to tell them - that Chuck had died. 

Yancy smiled, easing himself down to kiss Chuck gently. “Love you, too,” he said against his lips. 

“Love you _more_ ,” Raleigh replied, dropping into Chuck and kissing him soundly. By the time they parted lips, Chuck was dizzy. As he suspected Raleigh was as well, due to how quickly he dropped his brow against Chuck’s. 

Yancy eased himself down behind Chuck’s pillow mound, drawing Chuck’s head into his lap. His hand smoothed through Chuck’s hair, stroking his scalp. Raleigh stretched out beside Chuck, dropping his own head over the Australian’s chest just above his heart, and closing his eyes. 

They remained like that for a long time, silent and entangled. Unwilling to release one another or break the moment with insufficient words. Then Raleigh turned his face, pressing it into Chuck’s chest, nearly smothering. He pressed a kiss to his pec, before shifting, chin settling just above Chuck’s heart. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“No plans to, love.” He reached out to stroke him, losing his fingers in soft blond hair, stroking his thumb against skin aged by combat. Raleigh was young, but there were times he could look twice his age without trying. Lost to the horrors and haunting misery that came with the job. “Striker’s already read me the riot act. Apparently, we’re going to have a kid?”

Yancy flushed, but Raleigh just grinned at him. “Courtesy of Jaz,” he confirmed. 

“God help us,” Yancy mumbled above them. 

“Do you two even want kids?” he asked. “We’ve never talked about it.”

“That’s because until recently, you _were_ a kid,” Raleigh teased, kissing him playfully. 

“Fine sight that makes you, you cradle robbers.” 

Yancy looked slightly abashed. 

Raleigh just grinned at him, completely unrepentant. 

“Do you not want kids?” Yancy asked. 

“I do, actually,” Chuck replied. “I just...hadn’t given it much thought.” He shrugged. “Didn’t seem really feasible between our careers and all the male parts involved.”

Yancy smiled. “Jaz actually volunteered her eggs.”

“And her uterus,” added Raleigh, with some measure of delight. 

“She thought you’d want the baby to look like us, and she was pretty adamant that if we were going to have any kids, we’d keep it in the family. Especially given our hoarding situation.”

Chuck laughed. “Finally asked about that, did you?”

“I am a mighty fine piece of dragon horde,” Raleigh remarked, stretching languidly. 

“Everyone is aware the likelihood of any child of ours not ending up with a dragon of their own and further expanding the family is so low as to be near impossible, right?” 

His lovers grinned at him. It was so familiar a gesture, that for a moment Chuck was completely lost to it. Forgetting in that moment everything else that had occurred up until it, and all the hurdles still in their path after it. 

“Why else do you think she wants in on it?” Raleigh replied. “It’s _all_ about Legacy status.”

“Mako offered as well, but they’ll be needing a child of their own, and so we figured we’d pony up there and everyone breaks out even,” Yancy added. 

“Sound strategy,” Chuck agreed. 

Yancy and Raleigh stayed with him until Tamsin and Tendo arrived to usher them back to their own beds in hospital. They weren’t completely healed, but they - unlike Chuck - were healed enough to not need to remain with their dragon. As injured as Chuck was, there was no safe way to remove him from Striker’s shadow, and his dragon had not left him since long before he woke. He slept rarely, Chuck knew, only daring to rest when Chuck was in the company of those who loved him most. And generally, when he did take rest, it had more to do with Lucky or Gipsy’s presence than any other Rangers. 

Surprisingly, Tamsin returned, though she kept a safe and respectable distance, leaning into one of the foundation posts that marked the dragon line with a visually recognizable focal point. PPDC dragons weren’t nearly as territorial as they were in the wild, but it was still best for everyone’s safety to cordon off sections which warned against approaching closely enough to be considered intruding. Dragons were incredibly private by nature, and especially possessive and protective of their Rangers. Many of whom could often be found in their company, or drowsing away in the shade of their bodies. An unconscious Ranger was a vulnerable protectorate, and despite their civility, even PPDC dragons could be incited by a breach of what they deemed acceptable distance. 

When their Rangers were injured or dying - as in Chuck’s case - they were often coiled very tightly about them, the better to shield them. And even the press of humanity from across the dome could be unbearable. 

Coyote was with her, hovering over her in a way that indicated a distinct level of concern, though she didn’t outright attempt to dissuade her. Her head was raised as high as her neck would allow however, which was to dragons a physical representation of the common phrase ‘I’ve got my eye on you’. Striker stared back, eyes gleaming brightly - not yet in challenge, so Chuck stroked what he could reach to keep him calm. 

“Bit of a trip, isn’t it?” she said. When Chuck didn’t respond, she added, “Coming back from the dead.”

He pushed himself up, frowning slightly. He must have made a pained noise because Coyote shifted over Tamsin, lowering her head and raising her spines slightly. Striker lifted his own head, nosing Chuck in the back to help him sit up more comfortably. Once he was up though, Striker rested his head to the fall of cushions so that Chuck could lay back against him comfortably. The curve of his snout a perfect fit, and the warmth that radiated from his scales soothing to the point of relief against Chuck’s sore muscles. 

“Thought you made a recovery,” he said, a hand to his side in an attempt to keep his ribs from floating away. 

“After I died,” she replied. “Stacks…” She shifted her weight and leaned more heavily into the column. “Somehow managed to keep it a secret. Probably because he and Mako were the only ones Coyote would let close enough in all the chaos.” She drew a hand through her hair, fingers briefly lingering against the ragged scars against the back of her head and neck. Coyote lowered her head further, until it rested just above Tamsin’s, who reached up to pat her snout fondly. “But I died for at least a minute.”

Chuck licked his lips, finding his mouth suddenly dry. “Then you…”

She nodded and leaned back to sit over Coyote’s snout as it was lowered and then raised. Striker rumbled in approval, accepting the gesture and exhaling small plumes of smoke from both nostrils that somehow brought a bit of dampness to the air around them, easing Chuck’s breathing. A dragon whose Ranger was aloft - especially as precariously as Tamsin (though it was never a danger to the Ranger in and of itself) and given her injury, adding even more vulnerability to the action - was a dragon who would not engage. It was a sign of trust and respect, as much as it was of reassurance and protection. Her legs hung over the edge of Coyote’s snout, feet barely meeting the ridge of her lip, which hid fiercely sharp teeth. She didn’t swing them, though from her posture, it was a near thing. 

Chuck tried to get up, pulled something - much to Striker’s growl of displeasure - and slowly eased himself back into the comfort of his own dragon. “Did you…” He exhaled heavily, not quite sure where to start. “Did Coyote call you back?”

“Did Striker call you back?” she asked coolly. 

He frowned. “I’m not sure, to be honest.” 

She nodded again. “I’m no judge of what makes someone decide to turn around when they’re two feet in the grave already. I can’t honestly explain it to myself. But, I do know how…” She paused, struggling for a word that could somehow encompass the magnitude of tumultuous feelings dying and coming back left within a soul. 

“Fucked up?” Chuck suggested.

She smiled slightly. “Fucked up it can leave you.”

He rubbed at his arms, feeling cold despite the heat of Striker against his back. Striker growled and released another set of heated plumes. 

“I know the fear that won’t leave, that’s buried deep in your heart where you can’t even feel it except at night when it gets dark and suddenly you can’t move again. I know the terror of wanting to scream and not being able to because not a single part of your body will respond to you.”

 _Tamsin,_ Coyote warned, gently. 

“I know the desperation that makes your heart beat so quickly you feel like it’s going to burst and bleed out everywhere. And knowing, _knowing_ that you’ll feel _every_ moment of it.”

Striker growled deeply, the sound mirrored - surprisingly - by Coyote. 

“I know death, Chuck. And I know what it feels like to know it’s come for you when you don’t want to go, and the struggle just to get back. And I know how much it haunts you and leaves you open and wounded even when everyone around you is there.”

Both dragons roared loudly. Tamsin’s hands gripped Coyote against the nostrils, her face contorting in pain at the abrupt motion. Pain Chuck shared as he felt all the air rush from him in one fell swoop. The pain at least, brought both dragons abruptly back to their senses, making cooing, whining noises, trapped between an instinct to comfort and soothe and the pain over reminder of the inevitable raking at their very souls. For dragons, Chuck knew, had the most beautiful of souls.

They nuzzled their Rangers, but the damage had been done. They were still catching their breath when Dad and Stacker came to a running, stumbling halt, dropping beside them, faces drained of color, and hands trembling. Chuck had never seen the Marshall so lost, and his dad...his dad, he never wanted to see that look on his face ever again. 

Ghost drift, he thought as he was dragged into his father’s embrace - despite his own injuries. His eyes met Tamsin’s across the way. She was smoothing a hand down Stacker’s spine, murmuring to him softly. Chuck didn’t have the energy required to comfort his father, and so snuggled close like the child his father still often saw him as, and let himself be held. 

It was a while before any of them had steady enough nerves to confront what had happened, and Chuck thought he may have even drifted off for a while there. 

“You don’t understand,” Tamsin said, and he knew he’d drifted off, because he couldn’t recall what had been said for her to respond the way she had, voice hoarse, and emotional. “We _need_ to talk about it. You _have_ to let us talk about it!” She sounded almost desperate, and Chuck turned a groggy head to see her, back to him, supported by one of Stacker’s hands to her back as she faced off against Coyote. “I have to talk about it! I can’t-I can’t live like this anymore! Pretending it didn’t happen! And I won’t let him-I can’t let him make the same mistakes! I know you don’t like it, Coyote, but, I _need_ to do this. Please...let me do this.” 

Coyote made a displeased sound, spines quivering in upset. She must have been talking to them mind to mind - or Striker didn’t deem the conversation appropriate to share - because Stacker held up a placating hand, exhaled heavily in what sounded an awful lot like defeat and said, “She’s right, Coyote. It’s over.” 

Coyote’s neck angled back sharply in response, teeth bared in instinctual distaste, and hissed, ruff quivering. 

“Hasn’t she suffered enough?”

His comment brought the dragon up short, her whole body visibly deflating, eyes wide and sorrowful. 

“No,” Tamsin said, stroking Coyote’s nose. “No, I don’t blame you. It isn’t your fault. I wasn’t ready, and you knew that.” A pause and then, “There’s nothing to forgive.” She leaned in, hugging Coyote against the snout and whispering, “Thank you” so softly Chuck wouldn’t have been able to hear it, had the positioning of both dragons not amplified the acoustic effects. 

Tamsin scratched affectionately over Coyote’s nose, and turned to face them again. “You awake, Chuck?”

“Yup.”

“You ready to talk about it?”

“Nope!”

She smiled. “Want me to get Yancy and Raleigh?”

“And Uncle Scott. I don’t want to have this conversation more than once.”

She nodded, but it was Stacker who opened his comm and said, “Mr. Choi, alert medical please. We’re going to need the Beckets in the Dragon Bay again.”

“Yes, sir,” Tendo’s cool voice chirped over the line.


	3. Act III

Chuck stretched with a groan, feeling his spine pop. It felt damn good to finally be up and on his feet again. To be allowed to _move_. To extend himself and exert himself, and _exercise_. He rocked up onto his toes, back arching deeply and fingers bowing. As he released the motion, arms slipped around his middle and a blond head pressed a kiss to his neck. Chuck grinned. 

“Shouldn’t you be at physical therapy, mate?”

Raleigh moaned and pressed his face into his shoulder. “I hate, loathe and _despise_ physical therapy,” he complained. 

Chuck wrapped his arms about Raleigh’s and rubbed his forearms. “You know you need t’ go, Raleigh,” he cajoled, sympathetic. He disliked physical therapy himself, but there was no way they’d ever recover their dexterity and agility without it. Their dragons had already recovered, and while the Breach had been - for all intents and purposes - closed, that was no reason to drop their guard. They hadn’t known how it’d opened to begin with and couldn’t be sure another wouldn’t open in the absence of the first, and that they wouldn’t be faced with new, far more devastating Kaiju than ever before. Stacker needed everyone on point and in shape. They had a duty to their world, to its inhabitants, to their dragons and most importantly, to themselves. 

Raleigh heaved a sigh, then seemed to mysteriously gain weight.

Chuck bit back the laugh as Yancy’s body rocked them all forward, his own arms sweeping about them and his face pressing into Raleigh’s shoulder. “Uncle,” he groaned. 

“You know, you’d think neither of you have had to go through this before,” he chided, tangling the fingers of one hand with one of Yancy’s. “What happened to all your ‘experience’ putting me to shame?”

Raleigh’s hips canted between them as a means to bump him, since his arms and legs were otherwise occupied. The former full and the latter wholly engrossed in keeping them all upright. “By all rights, it _should_ have mattered. We should have _owned_ you in this!”

“Instead,” Yancy sighed. “All it’s doing is reminding us how much it hurt the _first_ time.”

“You were injured worse the first time,” he informed them, leaning back suddenly, to give them something to feel accomplished about. The three of them rocked back, but Yancy held firm and they merely ended up leaning into one another heavily in the opposite direction. 

Yancy’s arms tightened around them. “How’re you feeling, Chuck?” he asked, stretching forward to kiss him against the temple. Chuck closed his eyes at the brush of his lips, savoring the moment. He’d learned to do as much from Tamsin. A way to help ease the foreign feeling that remained hollowed out within him and always would. The touch of death and dragon soul. The truth to the old adage, ‘True love conquers all.’

When Striker had felt him die, he’d reached out to him instinctively. Chuck hadn’t been ready to go and had reached back. If they hadn’t had such a deep connection it might never have worked. As it was, Chuck and Striker had a _**deep**_ , unique bond, even among dragons and their Rangers. They hadn’t known when they were young, just how famous their survival had been among the dragon community. What it had meant in reference to the rest of their lives. They’d lived through Scissure’s attack, survived the furious scrambled defense, and clutched to life together buried alive in a fissure for two days. They’d been together the week after, while Chuck was in the hospital, Striker secretly tucked away at his bedside. They’d moved to Kodiak Island together, where Chuck had slept curled about Striker’s egg, safe beneath Lucky’s bulk. Striker had hatched and looked for him, refusing all other options in favor of seeking him out and he had gone to him. They’d grown up together in Shatterdomes around the world. Meeting new people and learning new things; best friends and brothers. The bond that had been formed between them had extended so deeply that Striker had found him in the haze beyond death, in the space where his soul was trapped. Had reached out and rescued him, drawn him close and sheltered him, and in so doing, completed the endless cycle of their lives. Lives, which were and had always been twined so tightly together, that the universe had even saw fit to give them mates who were bonded, so that they would never have to choose or separate for even the smallest, most insignificant reason. 

“Chuck,” Raleigh called softly, nosing him gently against the curve of his jaw. “Baby, come back.”

Chuck inhaled sharply, feeling the ache in his chest he’d never really acclimate to, but could at the very least, tolerate. He would have to after all, there would be no filling it. 

He blinked, head rocking back and started when his body sank. But hands were there to stroke him, bodies guiding him calmly down into a tangle of limbs. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, pulse pounding so loudly, it weighed heavily in his head. He dropped it weakly, feeling his hands trembling. Hands curled about them, bringing them up to kiss along his knuckles. Lips pressed similarly to his brow, kisses deeper and more grounding as they worked their way over his eyes, the crook of his nose, up his temple, across his forehead and into his hair. 

The drumming in his body slowed, breath slowly evening out. He closed his eyes, listening to Raleigh’s voice. Whenever he had an attack, Raleigh would sing. Chuck was never quite conscious of _what_ he was singing. The words were in French and by the time he was coherent enough to recognize them as such, he couldn’t tell how long Raleigh had been singing for. Yancy would hum along, the vibrations in his chest lulling Chuck back from the edge slowly. He always seemed to know just the right time to begin to sing along, and Chuck would focus on the steady rise and fall of his voice, the deep, echoing inhales that rocked him gently. 

Raleigh asked Yancy something, and Yancy replied, but Chuck didn’t know what they were saying. 

“English,” he rasped, knowing that much. 

“Learn French,” Raleigh teased, sliding against him. Whenever Chuck had an attack, they would touch him only as he allowed, and the rub of Raleigh’s shoulder was both a comfort - a reminder that he was not alone - and an inquiry, seeking permission to move closer. Chuck held out his arm, one hand clutching Yancy’s shirt so tightly he couldn’t feel it, he noticed belatedly. 

Raleigh slipped into his space, laying his head beneath Chuck’s and sliding his arms around him. They were mostly in Yancy’s lap, the elder Becket having Chuck settled in the hook of one leg, the other stretched out. He shifted to maneuver it about Raleigh, locking him into their embrace. 

Chuck released Yancy’s shirt and tried to flex his fingers, flinching when they refused to respond. The rush of terror shook his bones and his stomach leapt into his throat, and then Raleigh’s hands were about his, rubbing the tension away in smooth, practiced motions. Yancy spoke to him - in beautifully lilting French, despite Chuck’s complaint - lips to his temple. The French rolled over his skin and teased the hairs against his neck. The complexity of trying to piece together what his lover was saying distracting him. Raleigh’s massaging hands took care of the rest. 

He dropped boneless and exhausted into them, every part of him wrapped up in them, cradled close and treasured. When he’d died, they’d been inconsolable and his return to them had come with a certain new twist to their relationship. One which, his frequent attacks only helped bolster. He’d be upset by it and all the coddling, if he didn’t need it so much. As it was, he figured, his priority was to get better - however long that took - and they could sort the rest out later. His lovers had even said as much. They’d known what it had been like to be held close in a dragon’s soul. Protected from the pain and horror of death in the shelter of Gipsy’s mind. They couldn’t relate entirely, but they were familiar enough with the situation that Chuck’s difficult recovery did not surprise them at any turn. They merely kept close to him, quietly supporting and consoling him, and never once bringing it up afterward. Allowing him the privacy he needed to work through it, patiently nearby whenever he needed them, as they all worked toward closure together. 

They hadn’t had sex. Not the kind Chuck had so desperately wanted for so long. Neither had brought it up, and neither had instigated anything, much to Chuck’s continued annoyance and relief. He slept between them at night, where they could shield him from the nightmares. Or draw him close and secure him in reality when they could not. It should have been suffocating, but in truth, Chuck had never felt more loved in his life. Yancy and Raleigh were patient and gentle and so very supportive. They wouldn’t even let him berate himself or apologize when he felt so frustrated with himself he became nearly violent. They didn’t let him hurt himself, instead, giving him the outlets he needed to work through his frustration. Taking him to the kwoon, the gym, to therapy, and when all else failed, giving themselves over to his advances, and saying nothing and holding him close and stroking him when he ended up having an attack midway and being unable to finish what he’d started. He loved them more than he’d ever been aware the word ‘love’ could even properly define. There was nothing more he wanted than to be with them truly, wholly, entirely again. Mind and body and soul, and all the little parts of him that never fit anywhere else, and may never again. He wanted the feel of them against him, and the rush of desire, and to know he was driving them out of their minds with want. That they weren’t being cautious, careful, watchful and ready. Wanted them to give themselves over completely, with no doubts, hesitations or regrets. 

He wanted more than broken moments ruling his life. They deserved more. And so did he. 

“I want to try again,” he said, knowing they wouldn’t need clarification. 

“Okay,” Raleigh agreed. “But, will you let us-”

Chuck shook his head desperately, eyes closed. 

“Okay. It’s okay, Chuck,” he soothed, stroking down his side and tangling their fingers together. 

“All right,” Yancy added. “But, no tying us up. We need our hands free just in case.” He pressed a kiss to Chuck’s temple. “We’ll take it slow, alright?” He nosed Chuck’s hair. “You’re in charge. When you say-”

“Actually…” He swallowed. “I think...I think we need a safeword.” He looked down where his hand was clasped about Raleigh’s and stroked his fingertips over the blond’s knuckles. “I don’t think...I don’t think I’m going to be able to not say it...And you always listen to me-”

“Of course we do!” Raleigh replied, pushing himself up enough that he could look Chuck in the eye. “If you want to stop, Chuck-”

“We stop,” Yancy said. “No questions, no answers, no judgement.”

“I know,” Chuck replied, voice trembling slightly. “But, I don’t always…” He exhaled. “I panic and I say it, but I don’t always mean it. And then you stop and I-”

“Have an attack,” Raleigh finished, surprised by making the connection. 

Chuck nodded. 

“All right,” Yancy said, picking up the thread. “What are we going to use?” 

Chuck looked down at the pair of bodies stretched out before him on either side. Neither was tied up, as they’d agreed it would be counterproductive if Chuck had an attack. But they lay as he directed. Arms stretched up, hands closed tight about the pillows that had been shoved nearly off the bed. Their legs extended, relaxed and slightly splayed. 

“Okay,” Chuck said, taking a deep breath. “Rules.”

They nodded. 

“Until I touch your wrists, keep them up as if you were tied down. I’m not sure I-”

“Understood,” Yancy said, before he could potentially trigger himself. 

“Affirmative,” Raleigh replied, with a bit of a smile, all encouragement and love. 

Chuck nodded, gathering himself. “If you’re uncomfortable and you want to stop for any reason, say ‘Aerie’ and we’ll stop immediately. But otherwise, disregard the actual word ‘stop’ or ‘no’.”

“Alright,” they agreed. 

Chuck wound his hands together anxiously. “If I flinch or…”

“Keep going,” they replied, echoing their earlier agreement. 

“You’ll settle or you’ll safeword,” Yancy added. 

Chuck nodded. “It’s not personal. I love you more than anything. But…it’s just going to take some time, and I…” He bit his lip, at a sudden loss for words. Raleigh drew a leg up and rocked a knee against his side. His arms, Chuck noted, didn’t so much as twitch. 

“We understand, Baby.”

“We love you too and we don’t ever want to hurt you again.”

“We’re all adults, we’re all consenting...you ready to start?” His eyes seemed bluer than usual, and it took Chuck a moment to realize there was genuine excitement in them. It wasn’t even hope; Raleigh knew and understood and accepted. He loved and wanted and welcomed, and the smile he gave him, mirrored by Yancy who shook his head a moment later with a chuckle, spoke of nothing but complete trust and adoration. 

He felt the anxiety calm in his stomach as he rocked up, settling on his raised heels. “Yeah,” he said, smiling himself. “Ready.” 

“All I’m saying is,” Chuck said, arms thrown wide. “It’s been months, Uncle Scott. I know, and I’m okay with it, and apparently, I was the only one who _didn’t_ know, so…” He smirked. “Quit holding back, would ya?”

His uncle laughed, throwing an arm around him and dragging him into a hug. “You’re going to be the end of me, kid.” 

Chuck grinned, even though he was aware his uncle would have otherwise said ‘death of me’ had Operation Pitfall not occurred, and more over, had it not left him in such a vulnerable state. But he was getting used to people adjusting for him, and was learning to accept and appreciate the gestures for the love and concern behind them, instead of taking offense at the perceived need for them, and his personal, fervent disagreement that such a need existed at all. Aware as he was that it was utter bullshit. It would take him a long while to square it all away with himself, he was positive. But then, he’d always been his greatest, worst, and most detrimental critic. 

“But what an end, eh?”

Scott laughed and pressed a kiss to his hairline. 

Chuck had thought it would take longer. He wasn’t sure _why_ he’d thought so. Perhaps it was a combination of experience from his childhood, and what he’d known up until then of his uncle’s personality. As well as the relationship between his uncle and his father. So it was as much a surprise to him as it was to his dad when his uncle tripped, dipped and soundly kissed his elder brother right in front of him in the middle of a review of Striker’s stores. 

Herc had been so surprised, he’d gripped Scott’s shoulders, one leg hilariously caught high against the younger’s hip, eyes wide as Scott kissed him deeply. He’d pulled away, grinning, and Chuck had - for the first time in his entire life - witnessed the rosy flush of embarrassment overtake his father’s skin. He’d laughed, further surprising his dad, who’d caught on rather quickly after, gripped Scott by the shirt front and dragged him back into a more equal kiss. 

While he’d known objectively the majority of his life that Stacker and his father were involved, somehow he’d never pictured nor managed to witness an affectionate exchange between them. It was almost laughable, but he was fairly certain, if he thought back enough, he must have been under the impression that they simply hadn’t needed any. Which in and of itself was improbable. Especially as they’d been grown men in the middle of a war, the likes of which had constantly thrown random, more elaborate curves at them. They’d never known if the most recent time they saw one another would actually be the last. In retrospect, they - and uncle Scott - had probably had copious amounts of sex. He still couldn’t picture it, but what amazed him was how warm the sight of his uncle and father kissing left him. It was the same bubbly contentment he’d had as a child when he’d seen his parents together, and he realized suddenly, he’d always known. 

His mother could never be replaced, and he knew none of them would ever so much as _try_. But, he also became aware of the fact that Uncle Scott had never needed to find a place in Chuck’s life. He’d always had one. And with the loss of Chuck’s mother, his Uncle had stepped right into the parental vacancy. Taking on the work and responsibility of the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual needs of his nephew, without question, request or regret. He had always been nothing but loving, tender, affectionate and attentive. Even when Chuck had been at his worst. And Chuck found it settled something within him to have those bonds confirmed in the most concrete way.

It was _still_ odd when he first witnessed Stacker kiss either of the elder Hansen men. And Yancy and Raleigh had laughed themselves to pieces when Chuck had brought them all the horrifying details. They’d consoled him, teasing him the entire time, and he’d retaliated, first with words - that meant absolutely nothing - and then with his body, which worked a _whole_ lot better. 

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing Stacker Pentecost affectionate with anyone so intimately. But, that was on him, and he’d live with it. 

His own relationship was growing again, and Chuck _reveled_ in it.

Every encounter, complete with rules and safeword - that they were using less and less as time went by - was bringing them closer, more passionately together. And Chuck looked forward to the day when he’d get to carry out the promise he’d made to them outside the flightsuit room, before Operation Pitfall. 

He’d meant every word. And he’d meant to keep to his word. He still did. He’d just had to take the long way around. For their parts, Yancy and Raleigh didn’t seem to mind. Taking pleasure in every union, slowly growing more confident and comfortable. Chuck would have their relationship back. He didn’t care how long it took. It was more than worth the effort. And he could be damn patient - though they were even more so. 

The first time they all managed to get off, Chuck cried. Yancy and Raleigh were quick to console him, but after realizing the tears were a release, had ended up joining him instead. The three of them wiping at one another’s eyes and laughing softly over their combined sentimentality. 

The first time Yancy and Raleigh had been able to instigate an intimate encounter without setting Chuck off, they’d all slept happily together in the distinct bliss of contentment. They’d woken late the next morning and spent a few lazy hours tangled together in the sheets, talking and joking and trading long, dizzying kisses. They’d missed breakfast entirely and had wandered into lunch late and laughing. Chuck had seen something ease in his father and uncle’s eyes, their smiles just a bit more genuine than they’d been in a while. As if relieved to see him healing in the only way they’d been unable to assist. Chuck had dropped down across from them, flanked on either side by his own sibling lovers and chatted away with a gusto he hadn’t wielded since before the war began. They’d responded with appropriate mirth, but Chuck caught them later embracing Yancy and Raleigh quietly in an offshoot of the main thoroughfare. His lovers looked as relieved as his father and uncle had been earlier; so much so in fact, that Chuck decided to keep the incident to himself. Smiling warmly and snuggling close between them that night. Grateful just to have them in his life, thankful to be the recipient of their generous love and tender care. 

The first time Chuck didn’t safeword, his Becket Boys spent the rest of the night pressing devotions into his skin. Words in multiple languages - not all of which he spoke - breathed against his entire length, and bodies pressed close. Limbs, appendages, gliding smoothly against his skin. They spent hours making love to him without actually getting him off, and it was then that Chuck knew he’d healed, good and proper. Which made the next step, to him, fairly simple and straightforward. 

When he first brought it up, both of his lovers seemed reluctant, but they eventually agreed. Although, at their insistence, it was to happen naturally, organically, when the time was right. Chuck didn’t know how much he agreed with their stipulation, given his rather stellar progress, all told, but he was willing to make the concession. Eager as he was to see it through. He loved them, and anything they needed, if it was within his power to give to them, he would. Even when he largely suspected that the situation had more to do with their perceived interpretation of his needs. Which, while sweet, could be frustrating as hell. Still, he loved them, and regardless of their reasons, he could and _would_ wait. As long as it took. 

_Chuck, you are looking well,_ Gipsy greeted him cheerfully as he wandered into her pen. 

“Thank you, Gipsy,” he replied. “I’m feeling well.”

 _It is good to see you walking so steadily,_ she added, lowering her head to nuzzle him affectionately. _Has all the pain gone?_

He flagged a hand, answering her honestly. With dragons, honesty was all you had, whether you liked it or not. They could tell the difference, and took it as a personal affront when actively lied to. They didn’t understand the necessity behind lying, and didn’t appreciate its use in general. Their influence on their Rangers - who learned early on how to be truthful without revealing too much - meant that as a whole, they were an openly opinionated bunch. Though, they did have tact and training. Generally, one was only entirely bare to one’s dragon, due to the drift keeping absolutely nothing secret from them. Even if - as Chuck had learned the hard way - _they_ could keep as many secrets as they liked. In situations like Chuck’s - both a legacy bearer and soul bound to another dragon’s Rangers - things got a little hazy. He tended to treat all dragons like family. As a result those with whom he interacted most, knew a great many things about him. Gipsy, likewise, knew what Yancy and Raleigh knew - which was quite an intimate lot. 

“It comes and goes.”

 _Are you currently in pain?_ she asked, head tilting. She’d be able to smell it on him, of course, but sometimes strong medications messed with dragons abilities and Chuck had been on quite a few in the last couple of months - as had her own Rangers - though they were dwindling. Mostly, Rangers preferred to cope with their pain in private, and soon they’d be as clean as they liked. Even if currently, their medical regimen was less about pain management and more to do with boosting their systems. 

“No, Gipsy,” he replied, stroking beneath her jaw affectionately. “I’m fine, I promise.”

She made a distinctly happy rumbling sound and nuzzled him more. Chuck smiled and leaned into the attention. Striker and Gipsy had in the past few months since Chuck’s death, been more openly affectionate with one another’s Rangers. As mates, the treasures of the other became their own, and so, they had taken to considering both pairs of Rangers - Hansens and Beckets indiscriminately - their own. They spoke directly to all four of them now, which Chuck had found his father was actually quite familiar with, as Coyote had done similarly in his own situation, some years prior. It still occasionally startled the elder Hansen when Gipsy would appear from nowhere to nuzzle him. And he always laughed, patting her gently but firmly, and murmuring fondly. 

“I think we’ve been replaced, Yance,” Raleigh drawled. Chuck opened his eyes to find his lover standing across from him, arms folded, but a grin on his face. 

“By which one?” asked Yancy, from atop Gipsy’s slender back. 

“Both of them! We’re absolutely washed up. Just let them have each other! They look better together anyway.” 

Gipsy snorted, tail flicking him against the backside. Raleigh rocked with the motion, laughing heartily. She scooped a wing, herding him closer and tilting her head to nuzzle him in turn. His arms went about her as best he could manage and he hugged tight. 

“Now I’m feeling distinctly left out,” Yancy commented as he swaggered toward them, having ridden Gipsy’s tail down.

Soft plumes rose from her nose, but her slender neck lifted her head to press the length of her snout against him. 

Yancy made a soft noise - both prepared and accustomed to the greeting - as she connected, nearly bowling him over. 

_I love you all equally,_ she told them firmly, looking down at them once they were all together. 

“Even Chuck?” Raleigh asked, eyebrow raised. 

_Yes, even Chuck._

She gave a soft sound of contentment and wrapped around them. 

“I’m never going to get used to this,” Raleigh joked. “Are we the dowry or are you?”

Chuck shrugged. “I’m the one with the male dragon, but their society works the other way, so I really have no idea, love.” 

“I was joking.”

“I know,” he replied, leaning in to kiss him. “But, it’s still an interesting question.”

It was there; Chuck could see it in their eyes. Neither said it of course, they likely felt some combination of not having the right and not wanting to hurt him. But, he was used to it by now. It was there in the drift, after all. And when his father or uncle looked at him just so. _Just like your mother._

He smiled at them, leaning close to brush shoulders, letting them know he wasn’t offended, or hurt by the comparison. He loved his mother, and as much as the mention of her could hurt, he was always proud when the connection was made. Always happy to know some part of her lived on in him somehow, some way. He only hoped he could pass it on to his own kids. She deserved to be a part of the hoard after all. She’d begun it.

“Who gets the dragons in the divorce?” Raleigh teased, causing Gipsy to snort. 

_There will be no divorce,_ she informed him archly. 

“Oh? What if we get tired of him? He’s a bit of a brat, you know.”

Chuck snorted, dropping forward to wrap both arms around Raleigh and lean heavily into him. He kissed him and Raleigh kissed back around his smile. 

“He’s so demanding,” he added, arms looping around Chuck’s middle. He kissed him again, and while it was less chaste, it was no less playful. “So virile.”

_One would presume that was a good quality._

“You complaining?” Chuck teased. 

“Mmm...I love it when you wear me out.”

Yancy sighed, reaching out to grip them by the shoulders. “Looks like the kiddies need to be put to bed. We’ll be back, Gipsy.”

She looked at them with what was the dragon equivalent of a broad grin, though none of her fangs were actually showing. _Bed them well, Yancy._

“Oh, I intend to.” He dragged them close, wrapping an arm about either of them and directing them toward the exit. “Behave!” he chastised, when they both reached for his pants. 

“Come on, Yance!” Raleigh whined. “We don’t need a bed.” He squirmed eagerly against his brother’s side. “Let’s roll in some hay!”

Chuck - who had both arms wrapped around Yancy - stretched to include Raleigh in his grasp. “I’m down for a little play in the pens.”

Yancy groaned, but he was already hard, so they had him exactly where they wanted him. “I swear, one of these days, I’m going to say no to you,” he replied, from beneath the hand he’d dropped to his face. 

“But today is not that day,” Raleigh teased, already backing up, luring them both into a stray stack. 

Chuck assisted Raleigh in bringing Yancy down, the pair of them turning and wrapping him up in their arms as they dropped back into the neat pile. Yancy laughed as he went down, landing on top of them. 

“Everyone okay?” he asked, as they launched a dual assault on his neck. 

“I’ll be better…” Raleigh murmured between kisses. “When your cock is out.”

Chuck’s hands had already made quick work of Yancy’s pants, and he drew him out, pumping slowly. Yancy moaned deeply in response, hips rocking into the attention with enough weight to pin them down. 

“Oh Baby,” Raleigh groaned, smoothing a hand down Chuck’s side. “I love it when you do that.” His hand turned, following the contours of Chuck’s body to rub over the bulge of his erection in his pants. 

Chuck gave a whimper as Yancy’s hand found its way into his pants at the same moment, fingers splaying broadly against his cheek. He tightened his his grip around Yancy teasingly, and received a return squeeze.

Yancy’s mouth found its way to his neck, and Raleigh returned to Yancy’s, both their hands traveling over Chuck’s body. Yancy’s shoving deeper down and Raleigh’s stroking with more promise. 

Since Chuck’s right arm was pinned between them, and already had Yancy in a firm grim, he stretched the other out from beneath his own, so he could run his hand over the expanse of his back. His fingers brushed Raleigh’s and they began to tease Yancy in earnest. Chuck released him for a moment to lick his hand, before reaching for him again. Yancy stifled the appreciative sound against his skin, but nipped him before rutting against him. 

Raleigh moaned beside him and Chuck knew where Yancy’s other hand had gone. Raleigh likewise had unzipped Chuck’s fly, his own hand making contact with Chuck’s heated skin. Chuck released a moan of his own and circled his thumb about the head of Yancy’s cock. 

They moved as one, pleasuring each other slowly, despite the somewhat public location. It was rare that anyone but other Rangers were in the pens - as dragon care personnel were not as tolerated without a Ranger nearby. And most Rangers chose to care for their own dragons when they were able. The dragons themselves found the need for care ridiculous and had a not so secret dislike for the crews invasive measures. Which meant most of the time the pen was being cleaned, the dragons were out flying with at least one of their Rangers. They had a habit of asking for their thanks to be communicated, but the whole affair embarrassed them somewhat, and they did not care to be reminded that they were being kept like animals. 

Some members of their crews, despite all their experience, could still be anxious around them, or even prejudiced. Forgetting - in their lack of outright communication with them - that the dragons were in fact intelligent, sentient beings. And not simply the great beasts they appeared to be. It was nothing outright offensive, of course - no one would have dragon detail if they were so inclined. But humans had an unfortunate tendency to forget and speak freely as they went about their work. The occasional dragon response did nothing to assist the image of their civilized nature, but rather more firmly rooted the unfortunate animalistic tendencies as inherently truer. Dragons by nature, were private, protective, possessive and occasionally - especially where their Rangers were concerned - sensitive. 

It was likely Gipsy was well aware of their situation, and would become agitated if any crew wandered in, or too close. Dragons as a race, had no solid opinions on sexuality, but they held the intimacy of the act in high regard. When Striker and Gipsy had mated to produce Baby, they’d disappeared for a few days, returning only to lay their egg. Dragons didn’t mind being near when others copulated, but they did their best to tune it out, so that the act could remain a pure interaction between it’s participants only. And while Striker and Gipsy had both been very pleased that Yancy, Raleigh and Chuck’s scents had begun to coalesce, they were not at all ignorant as to how it came about. Though they never outright mentioned it, unless offhandedly cheering them on. They had high stakes in their Rangers relationship, and they meant to see them remain together for the duration of their lives. Not that any of them were complaining. 

Yancy worked a finger against Chuck’s entrance, causing him to buck up more enthusiastically into Raleigh’s hand. He wasn’t anywhere near close, the sensation of prickly nesting material against his skin, coupled with Yancy and Raleigh against him, drawing out his body’s ability to crest exponentially. It was hot in the close contact, their breaths raking across one another’s skin. The weight of their bodies moving against one another making the hay crinkle in obvious telegraph. They were otherwise as quiet as they could manage. Breathing in one another’s sighs and swallowing one another’s moans, their own cries smothered against each other’s bodies. 

_I found them!_ came the jubilant cry of Mako and Jazmine’s dragonling. 

They all froze instantly. 

“It’s about time!” Jaz complained from somewhat further away. 

They broke apart quickly, trying to stuff themselves back into their clothing as painlessly efficient as possible. 

“Where are they?” 

_They are in the supply stack._

“They’re rebedding Gipsy’s pen themselves?”

_They were mating!_

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

 _Language,_ her dragonling chimed, even as Yancy and Raleigh shouted it at her. 

“Stop fucking in public places and I’ll start minding my fucking language!” she snapped. Her voice lowered, gentling. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, Baby.”

 _And do not tell, Mako,_ the dragonling finished, in good practice. 

“Yes, I’d appreciate it, thank you.” She paused just outside, rapping hard against the wall pannel. “You idiots decent? And I mean physically, because not even God could help you with the rest.” 

_They are no longer mating,_ her dragonling replied, its large mass in the entryway engulfing the space with no effort. _They were fully dressed, but they are standing now._

Chuck flushed. He’d never had a dragon walk in on him before, and certainly not one so young and still so unaware of what was and was not appropriate conversation material. He hoped it didn’t find it necessary to mention their encounter to Mako, or his dad, or any of the other dragons who might then bring it up with their Rangers. Oh God, if his _dad_ found out…

Raleigh laughed quietly and threw an arm around him, bringing him close to kiss his temple in support. 

Yancy reached back to smooth a hand down his spine supportively. 

Sometimes, even with those one didn’t drift with, no words were needed. Chuck appreciated that. He really did.

Jazmine ducked beneath the dragonling’s wing to make it through what space was left and face them. She was smirking, so she clearly wasn’t offended. Chuck was still mortified. Though really, what had he expected? Letting himself get lost the way he had in an open space. Someone was bound to come through eventually. Better to be caught by a dragon than a person. Although, he wasn’t _entirely_ certain Jazmine wouldn’t lord it over them for a good while. He’d never had siblings, he could never predict their interactions, nor his place in them by proxy. 

Neither Yancy nor Raleigh seemed particularly concerned, so he decided to verge on the side of caution. One of them had to be prepared. 

“Funny I should catch you rutting given the reason I need to speak with you.”

“Out with it, Jaz,” Raleigh replied. “We have rutting to finish.”

Her mouth quirked up, and for one horrible moment, Chuck thought she might mention their previous engagement. Instead, she floored them all by turning to him, meeting his eyes and saying casually, “It’s time to knock me up, Chuck.” 

“What?!” Raleigh choked, the first of them to recover, several minutes later. 

Jaz had already taken a photograph they’d have to hunt down and destroy, taking advantage of their stunned states. She’d laughed and tucked the camera away in her breast pocket, then stepped closer to her dragonling for the added protection. None of them would really attack her, but in the event they decided to tackle her for it, Baby would take offense. It was too young to do them any real damage, especially with Gipsy so close by and Striker within distance. But it was a statement all the same, and they let her make it unaccosted. 

“Mako and I have been discussing it and we think the best time for us to be pregnant is while Baby is still too young to ride,” she explained, stroking her dragonling’s neck. It gave a soft rumble of pleasure, whole body leaning into the attention, which forced Jaz to shift slightly. She smiled and patted its side affectionately. “We’ll have a lot of work ahead of us once Baby’s fully grown, and even more once it’s matured enough to begin it’s plasma training. And we agree that once we’re a functional Jaeger, it’d be a bad time to go on maternity leave. So, we think it’s in everyone’s best interests if we get pregnant now, while there’s less physically demanding work for us, and we’re near enough the Breach’s closing that we’re likely to be safe long enough to give birth, and for all of us to bond with our little ones. Plus, I’m ovulating, so…” She dropped the curve of her hand into her palm swiftly twice. “Chop. Chop. I need your swimmers Chuck.” 

Chuck blinked at her. 

“Yancy and Raleigh can help. But, condom, guys, and neither of you come because…” She made a face. “I am carrying your hubby’s baby. Not yours. That’s Mako’s job.” 

Yancy and Raleigh sighed as one. Yancy’s far more exasperated, while Raleigh’s held amusement. 

“When did you decide this, Jaz?” Yancy asked. “Because if it was last night, I’m sure we can all wait another month for you to start ovulating again.”

“I am doing you a service!” she replied, but it sounded more like a younger sibling’s taunting than an outright argument. Although, Chuck was basing his assumption on his lovers reactions, and not entirely on Jaz’s replies. She may be his friend, but he’d never understood how the Beckets operated and he doubted he ever would. 

“One which we’re returning,” Yancy countered gently.

“If you’re lucky, you and the wifey might get a twofer,” Raleigh added with a grin. 

“Bite your tongue!” Jaz gasped, pointing at him. She turned to look at Chuck again swiftly, eyes narrowing. “Is there twinning in your family? So help me, Chuck Hansen, you knock me up with multiples and I will wear your balls for earrings.” 

“Why are you complaining?” Raleigh countered. “Multiples just means you only have to do the labor thing once.”

“Except for the part where they’ll probably have to cut them out, and they will be tiny.”

“Guys!” Yancy shouted, holding up his hands. “Chuck’s turning green.” 

He wrapped his arm around him, and Chuck leaned heavily into his elder lover, at a complete loss. 

“Wow...you guys need to condition him better,” Jaz commented, as Raleigh drew up against them and pressed into his back.

“Only child,” they reminded her. 

“And you’re a handful enough any day on your own,” Raleigh added. 

“Okay, so we’re not doing that,” Jaz said. “The only child thing,” she added, when they all looked to her. “I had siblings, and as much as they’ve _ruined_ me for life, our kids should probably have that.” She leaned into her dragonling. “If Mako’s okay with it, of course.”

 _Chuck, are you all right?_ the dragonling asked, head tilting inquisitively. It was so earnest in it’s query, that Gipsy’s head appeared above them, looking in over the partial wall. 

_Chuck, are you unwell?_ she asked in concern. 

“Just a shock, Gipsy,” Yancy replied, smoothing a hand over his side. 

_Is he having an attack?_ she countered, head dropping low to inspect them. 

“Oh God, guys, I’m _so_ sorry!” Jaz gasped, in horror. “I completely forgot! He was doing so much better, I--I’m an _idiot_! Chuck, Chuck, I’m really sorry. Can he hear me? Chuck!”

“Not having an attack,” he assured them all, reaching up to pat Gipsy’s snout. 

_Chuck?_ Striker queried, head appearing above the rest. Gipsy moved out of the way to let him inspect him on his own. His great inhales sending Chuck’s and both Beckets’ clothing blowing with his releases. 

“I’m okay, Striker,” he replied, leaning into his dragon. “Just, caught off guard is all.” 

Striker rumbled low, and Gipsy rumbled in response, her bulk coming down over their dragonling. 

“Hey,” Chuck interrupted, drawing their attention again. “Hey, it’s okay. Really. I just wasn’t expecting Jaz to be ready so soon, and…” He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “But she’s right. Now’s the best time. The _safest_ time. It might not be how we planned, but then, I got told last the first time. I appreciate being informed first this time.”

Jaz smiled at him, even as Striker grumbled at him, _You act as if it was a conspiracy._ As it was mind to mind, Chuck just patted him and replied, “Was so a conspiracy. But, I appreciate it all the same.” 

He looked to his lovers, turning so he could lean his back into Striker’s snout, keeping contact to keep them all calm. Striker was the largest and fastest among them, even after his injury. And while this was his own family, there were moments dragons could be pushed to. Moments where only their Ranger’s life held value, above all others, and Chuck didn’t wish to encounter anything even remotely like it if they could help it. For all their sakes and relationships. 

“You ready to have a baby with me?” he asked, holding out his hands, palms up.

They both took one, finishing the circle by clasping one another’s tightly together. 

“Let’s do this,” Raleigh said.

“Together,” Yancy agreed. 

“For the record,” Jaz called over - because she wouldn’t be herself if she didn’t have a ready comment. “I’d rather none of you were present when I get inseminated.” 

Medical was surprisingly well prepared. Jazmine prefered to not undergo fertility treatments, as it would both prolong their wait - until she next ovulated - and because at heart she felt if they were meant to have a baby it would happen in it’s own time, regardless of how many times she had to be inseminated. 

She and Mako chose to do the insemination on their own, forgoing clinical matters. They wanted the intimacy of creating a child, and none of their donors could fault them for it. As they’d been allowed the intimacy to collect on their own, they felt Mako and Jazmine deserved the intimacy of insemination on their own. 

Though for safety reasons, Jazmine and Mako had to inseminate one another a week apart. Jaz had pouted at first but had relented when Mako had discussed it with her privately. They couldn’t afford a mix up, so Yancy and Raleigh helped Chuck donate first. And Mako and Jazmine inseminated once his genetic material was cleared. 

A week later, Chuck helped Yancy and Raleigh donate. And Jazmine inseminated Mako. After the rush of it all - even with their concessions to privacy and intimacy - there was nothing to do but wait. And as they wanted it to be as natural as possible, neither woman consented to early testing. To be sure they took, they performed the procedures twice more between the five of them, all of them feeling more comfortable without the doctors involvement. Even if one insemination was all that would be required during ovulation. Their mutual desire to keep the conceptions up to chance drove them to be thorough. 

“We’re really doing this,” Raleigh said one night as they all lay in bed together. 

Chuck rolled his head to see him better and Yancy propped himself up on an elbow to look at him across Chuck’s chest. 

“Getting cold feet, kiddo?” he asked gently. 

Raleigh shook his head. “Nothing like that. I just...I guess I never thought I’d be a dad.”

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” Chuck informed him, stroking over his chest. 

Raleigh reached up to clasp Chuck’s hand in his, holding it over his heart. “Thanks, Chuck.” 

“What’re we even gonna have the sprog call us?” Chuck asked, the thought springing to mind almost as suddenly as he expected the thought of a child had for Raleigh moments earlier. 

“We have time to figure that out,” Yancy soothed, stroking a hand over his belly. 

“A baby…” Raleigh said, still caught up in his own revelation. 

“A baby,” Chuck and Yancy replied. 

“What do you think it’ll be?”

“Dunno, love,” Chuck replied with a shrug. “Don’t rightly care if we’re being honest. Don’t know much about sheilas, but I figure, that’s what you lot are for.” Yancy and Raleigh had raised Jazmine on their own after their mother died and their father had run off for who only knew what reason. There were days Chuck sincerely hoped that the reason the man hadn’t contacted them in years was because he’d had a change of heart and had tried to make it back to them but was stomped on by a Kaiju. It was cruel perhaps, but it was the only reason Chuck could see anyone never coming back to the Beckets. Even with as brusque as Jaz could be, she had a good heart. It was frankly inconceivable for him to find any of Yancy or Raleigh’s faults worth abandoning them over. And none of them had deserved the shit that had piled down on them so quickly out of the blue. 

“We don’t really know all that much,” Yancy admitted. “Jaz mostly raised herself.”

“We just made sure she was fed and clothed and had a roof over her head,” Raleigh added.

“It shows,” Chuck replied flatly. 

They both shoved at him and they had a good laugh over it. 

“We could always have the dragons raise her. Did wonders for you,” Raleigh teased. 

“It did at that,” Chuck agreed. 

“We’ll be alright,” Yancy said, a hand in Chuck’s hair, fingers twining about dark strands. The other had settled behind Raleigh’s, rubbing at his nape soothingly. “Whatever we have. We can do this. As long as we’re together, we can do anything.”

“Sap,” Raleigh drawled as Chuck and Yancy kissed. But he laughed into his own when Yancy leaned over Chuck to give him one as well. By the time Raleigh was kissing Chuck things had progressed slightly. 

“I love you,” Chuck rasped, holding Raleigh’s face in his hands. 

Raleigh’s stroked over the sides of his own. “I love you too.”

“And you,” he continued, turning to look up at Yancy. “I love you.”

Yancy smiled. “And I love you both as well, God help me.”

“ _Someone_ gave us to you,” Raleigh remarked. “You’re damn right you were helped.”

Chuck laughed, content with his life, even with all the changes on the horizon. A baby, their dragons, continued recuperation...and who only knew about the Kaiju. All of it was different, slightly intimidating, but Chuck had always been up for a challenge, and these were no different. 

They began lazily, exploring one another as if it were the first time. By the time things got serious, Chuck was sandwiched between them, straddling Yancy, with Raleigh at his back. “Tonight,” he gasped, head rocking back. “ _Please_ , tonight.”

“Tonight,” they agreed softly, kissing him. 

All the practice in the world could not compare to the real thing. And Chuck sucked in a breath as Yancy guided him down over his length. He’d insisted on Chuck being as loose as possible, relaxed and well lubed. The lead up had nearly driven him over the edge. But, somehow, he’d survived it, and it had been worth every moment. The feel of Yancy inside him - at long last - brought actual tears to his eyes. Yancy - being Yancy - paused. “Are you alright, Chuck?” he asked, one hand abandoning Chuck’s hip to reach up and stroke moisture from his eyes. 

“I’m just happy,” he sighed, eyes blinking open to look down at him. “I’m so happy.”

Yancy smiled, and reassured, began thrusting again. It was slow at first, to get Chuck used to him, but soon enough, Chuck - being a determined, well prepared, severely cock starved individual - began to thrust back and Yancy paused - whether out of concern or sheer stimulation, Chuck couldn’t tell. 

“Raleigh,” he gasped, riding Yancy hard. “Raleigh, get in here, love.” He pushed himself up, reaching back for his other lover and drew him into a desperate kiss. “I want you inside me,” he rasped against his mouth. “Need you inside me. Now. _Please_.”

“God, Chuck,” Raleigh exhaled, pushing up against him. “Stop moving, baby. Hold still...hold still for me.” His and Yancy’s hands caught Chuck mid thrust and held him steadily. “Okay?” Raleigh asked, kissing over his shoulder. “Okay?”

Chuck nodded, feeling a keen rising in his throat. “Fuck, Raleigh...Fuck. In me! In me!” 

“Easy, baby…” Raleigh panted, brow dropping to Chuck’s back. “Easy.” 

Chuck whined, hips testing their hold as Raleigh let go with one hand to guide his cock against him. He bit his lip when he felt the head press close. “Jesus, Raleigh. Do it! I’m not gonna break! Just do it! Please!”

“I’m doing it, Chuck, just...wait...we have to go easy, baby.”

Chuck shook his head, dropping forward until he could press his face against Yancy’s throat. Yancy wrapped his arms about him, stroking over his back soothingly. His hold about Chuck held him still, fingers smoothing over muscle and bone as Raleigh aligned himself. 

He said something, low and hissed and in French. Which Yancy responded to immediately and also in French. 

“ _English_ ,” Chuck growled. 

“Some things can’t be said in English,” Yancy replied, turning to kiss him against the temple. 

“Gonna be teaching the kids French anyway,” Raleigh replied, sucking in a breath as he breached him. “You’re going to….need to….learn...oh fuck, _fuck_!”

Yancy’s head thumped against the mattress as his body arched slightly, caught between thrusting up into the tightening heat, and remaining still while Chuck adjusted. Chuck was too busy curling about Yancy and thrusting his hips back to meet Raleigh’s cock to be overly concerned. He was fairly certain he’d managed every single swear word he’d ever heard in his entire life by the time they were both seated. The stretch and burn of it was incredible. But what made it all the more amazing was the fact that for once, he wasn’t in an awkwardly hunched position, just trying to keep two silicone wannabes up his ass. 

Instead, he was comfortably between the two bodies he’d most longed to be pressed against. And they had driven their own, very real, very hard and very large cocks up his ass as one. There were reasons Jaegerflies ultimate goals were to sleep with both Rangers at once. Chuck had been a recipient of the dual, synchronous attention for endless weeks of pleasure. But it did not even compare to the way the brothers shifted, adjusting on either side of him, making them truly one, and began to thrust. 

Chuck moaned deeply, pushing himself up even as Raleigh draped across his back. Yancy pushed himself up on his elbows to meet them and Chuck saw stars. The cry he uttered only seemed to spur them on, because all at once, they were driving into him. 

He lost track of what any of them were saying, though he knew the likelihood anything he was saying was something just short of filthy was highly unlikely. He was cognizant enough to realize that after a while all they were making was noise, and lots of it. They were lost to the moment, riding pleasure and passion as they drove themselves forward toward release, unaware and uncaring as to whom may end up privy to their intimacy. 

“Gonna come, gonna come!” one of them gasped, though Chuck couldn’t tell which of them had done so. 

It didn’t much matter, because a moment later all three of them released and the world went white. 

Chuck could feel them still seated in him, pushed deep, the three of them tangled together in a knot of bodies. He felt so full, he was sure it would be forever burned into his memory and sent a silent - albeit brief - apology to his Dad when next they drifted. Unless perhaps, he could talk Striker into keeping it just between them, the way he had for his father’s own experiences in a similar union. 

Raleigh was a heavy weight across his back and he was fairly sure they were crushing Yancy, whose chest rose and fell with the strength of a bellows. 

They lay there for a few minutes, dazed by the sheer ferocity of their orgasms. Trying their best to catch their breath, despite the piling of their bodies. Harsh breaths blowing across sweat damp skin. 

“My hands…are shaking…” Raleigh panted eventually. “My fucking hands are shaking.” He shifted slightly, pressing sloppy, but steady kisses across Chuck’s shoulders. “Where the _hell_ did you learn to squeeze like that?” 

Chuck gasped through a short laugh. “It was…the only way…I could...get off.”

Yancy groaned. “I _knew_ it!”

Chuck smiled against his skin. “Had to...keep busy...somehow.”

“You fucking _practiced_?!” Raleigh replied. 

“Don’t be so surprised, Rals,” Yancy said, reaching down to gently swat what was exposed of Chuck’s ass, not covered by Raleigh’s own body. “He’s always been studious.” 

“Never wore myself out like this,” he admitted. “Jesus-Fuck, you’re both _amazing_.”

“I’m going to pull out now,” Raleigh warned, reaching back. 

Chuck and Yancy just nodded. 

He had to bite his lip as Raleigh’s hips slid slowly back, reaching for his cock and guiding it free with extra care. Yancy kissed along his jaw, wincing slightly as Raleigh assisted him free. 

“Everyone in one piece?” he asked after a moment, Raleigh dropping down into the bed beside them, breathing hard. 

“Think we’re getting stuck together,” Chuck informed him. “But otherwise...I’ve never felt better.” He grinned at them. 

“Look at him,” Raleigh huffed. “The smug little bastard.” 

Yancy reached up to smooth back Chuck’s hair, pushing up to kiss his temple when Chuck leaned into the touch. “Did you enjoy it?” he asked him, soft and warm against his skin. 

Chuck hummed. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Yancy replied, kissing him again. 

“Yeah,” Raleigh added. “That was...the _best_ sex I’ve ever had. Bar none.” He swiped both hands above him in the air, continuing after a moment, “Sorry, Yance.”

Yancy shook his head. “No, I admit defeat.” He slid one arm about Chuck, bringing him back down against him. Chuck turned his head so he could see Raleigh, who was rolling into the arm Yancy had extended. “I love you both,” he said seriously and with such conviction, it was almost difficult to recall him panting along side them a moment earlier. “No matter what happens, that will never change.” He kissed the top of Chuck’s head, then Raleigh’s temple. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Even if it means growing old and useless, and ending up creaky old men on a porch somewhere.”

“We’re still younger than you, you’re going to creak first,” Raleigh teased gently. 

“He already creaks,” Chuck countered.

Yancy continued as if he hadn’t heard them. “Wanna die with you. Be burned with you. And drift on the wind forever with you.” 

They quieted at that, snuggling close and stroking over him. 

“You’re stuck with us, Yance,” Raleigh murmured after a while. “For better or for worse.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

Chuck turned his head, chin resting against Yancy’s chest. “You proposing, mate?”

“Yes.”

Chuck blinked at him, then looked at Raleigh, only to meet equally startled eyes. 

“Holy shit, are you _serious_ , Yancy?” the younger blond asked.

“You know I am, Rals,” he replied, drawing him close and rubbing noses. “Know how long I have been at that.”

Raleigh closed his eyes, a blinding smile breaking out over his face. “I never thought you’d-”

“Neither did I,” the elder blond admitted. 

“Yes!” Raleigh gasped and kissed him. “Jesus, Yance, yes!” 

Chuck watched them kiss, smirking when they turned to look at him expectantly. “Well, I suppose, I already tried knocking up your sister a few times, might as well make it permanent.” 

They laughed and kissed him. 

Chuck didn’t think it could get more perfect. 

“I’M PREGNANT!!” Jaz announced over the intercom a week later. More to the point, she screamed it right against the mic, causing several people to wince, and every dragon in the bays to lower their heads against their sides. 

“You couldn’t tell us in person first?!” Raleigh shouted at her as she all but bounced into the Dragon bay with her dragonling behind her and Mako at her side. 

“Don’t shout at pregnant people, Rals!” she shouted back. 

Yancy looked to Mako, raising a brow. 

She flushed and nodded, bowing deeply. 

“We Beckets are good at making babies,” Jaz informed them. “So you better be prepared because this is probably gonna suck for everyone.”

“Well,” Chuck said, turning to their dragons. “Legacies currently baking.”

Gipsy and Striker lowered their heads, sniffing at and nuzzling both women. Lucky and Coyote followed until they were surrounded.

 _I will take extra special care of the eggs,_ their dragonling assured the amassed group. 

“Baby,” Jaz said gently. “Humans grow inside their mothers. It will be a while before you can see them. And Mako and I are going to get very round!” She gestured with her arms indicating a pregnant swell. “But you needn’t worry, because, we will go right back once the babies are born!” She drew her hands in, dropping them against her well toned abdomen, and while the dragonling looked on as if it could see through her shirt, she glared at them with a look even Chuck could interpret. ‘We better or else.’

Her brothers threw up their hands and Chuck shoved his in his pockets. 

Jazmine Becket was pregnant. With his baby. 

He was going to be a _father_. 

They had a bit of a party, something to celebrate in the wake of the Breach closing. Jaz wasn’t too comfortable with celebrating when she was barely out of her first month, but as her brothers had explained to her, if she hadn’t wanted people to know, she shouldn’t have announced it over the communications system. Mako was more reserved, quietly and politely thanking people, her arms in front of her in a formal position that Chuck couldn’t help but also see as a mother’s protective instinct. 

It weighed on him as the party dragged on, and he found himself tugging Jazmine into a corner when he couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“Thanks for saving me,” she sighed, sinking back into a chair. “I swear, you’d think it was everyone’s baby!” 

“They can’t help it, they’re just excited.”

“Yeah, but…” She sighed and looked down, arms looping around her middle hollowly. “I dunno...I was just really excited. I didn’t mean to not tell you first, Chuck.”

“It’s okay, Jaz, really.”

“No, it isn’t.” She ran her hand back through her hair and slumped slightly. “I just...I wanted this to be special. For you and Yance and Rals...I mean...you couldn’t do this any other way. Mako and I we could have a dozen babies between us, but you-”

“Really Jaz, it’s okay.”

She cocked her head, observing him. “ _Something’s_ bothering you,” she pointed out deftly. 

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About my mom.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. She tucked some hair back behind her ear and looked down at her lap. “I was thinking about mine too.” 

“Not sure I want my kid to not have that relationship. I mean, they’re gonna be loved lots yeah, but it’s just…”

“Not the same,” she replied. “I know.”

Chuck exhaled heavily and raked both hands through his hair. It was plaguing him. He hadn’t thought it would, but the moment he’d let it sink in, the moment he’d accepted his looming parental responsibilities, he’d been unable to think of anything else. All he could hear was her voice. The songs she sang while she moved about the house. Her laugh, open and honest and loud, as if bursting from her every time. The brush of her hair as she’d lean close to kiss him goodnight. The warmth of her skin and the long brushes of her fingers, as if every touch was just an extension of the last. 

He sat across from Jazmine, shoulders slumping. From further in the dome Striker roared, feeling Chuck’s pain. It brought his dad, who said nothing, simply pulled up a chair and drew him close. “I know,” he murmured into his hair. “I know.” Chuck curled into the embrace, relaxing as Jazmine moved her chair and pressed against his back, stroking down his arm. 

“Everything okay?” Raleigh asked, coming into view. 

“I miss mom,” Jazmine sobbed. 

Raleigh deflated, but Yancy - perhaps better accustomed to it - moved over and picked her up, settling in her chair and holding her close. He rocked her softly, humming gently. Raleigh drew up a chair, placing it across from the four of them and leaned in, one hand to each of their thighs, and began to sing. 

There was a slight commotion, people startling and tables being knocked over and then Jaz’s dragonling was shoving its spade shaped face into their group and snuffling her. 

It must have spoken to her directly, because she shook her head and reached out for it, drawing its head close. Yancy paused in his rocking to let her draw it into their embrace. “I just miss my mother,” she told it. “No one hurt me...no one hurt me..”

It closed its eyes, wings drooping. It couldn’t understand her distress, but keened softly regardless, sharing in it. Mako eased her way over, with Stacker and Tamsin, and before anyone knew it, it was a large pile of people. Uncle Scott wandering over after having gone to tell their dragons they were okay. He settled down beside Herc, gathering his brother and nephew in arms and holding tight. 

Chuck hadn’t even noticed his father had joined in his tears. 

Later that night, cuddled close between his lovers, after a good long cry, Chuck felt remarkably better. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone.”

“Shh,” they replied in unison, hands stroking. 

“You have every right to miss your mother, Chuck.”

“In all the chaos of everything,” Raleigh replied, pressing his cheek to Chuck’s shoulder. “It didn’t occur to me until you and Jaz were already upset over it.”

Chuck tried to shift so he could see him, but Raleigh was plastered against his back. Yancy reached for him, smoothing his fingers through blond hair. “Wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he told them. “And no one should feel bad for thinking or not thinking about it. It is what it is.” 

“What was your mom’s name?” Chuck asked, curious about the woman who’d raised such wonderful children. 

“Dominique.”

“That’s a lot to live up to.”

They laughed. 

“As opposed to your mother, you mean.”

“Foremost dragonologist.”

“Founding member of the Jaeger Program.”

“Pretty sure she invented the Jaeger program, Yance.”

“Oh shut up,” Chuck countered, scrubbing his face against the elder Becket’s chest. “Her name was nice and simple, see what I’m getting at?”

“Her name was simple, but she’s a legend, Chuck.” He pressed a kiss between his shoulderblades. “We’re here because of her. She gave us you. And we’ll always be thankful to her for it.”

Yancy knocked his brother’s shoulder with his own, smiling at him over Chuck’s head. Chuck figured he was rewarding him for actually saying something with more depth than a sexual tease. But Raleigh’s honesty was something Chuck both loved and admired. He could always count on the younger Beket to say what was on his mind, something which Chuck himself was generally likely to do - despite the consequences, which he rarely thought through before opening his mouth. Every so often, Raleigh would say something deep and meaningful, and it would stick with Chuck in ways he couldn’t shake. He liked that Raleigh’s words echoed back at him at odd moments. Enjoyed the weight of them within himself. Looked forward to the times he could actually bring them to fruition, or bask in their resonance. 

“I want our kid to have an uncomplicated name,” he said, fingers stroking over tanned skin on either side of him. 

“We’re going to need to know what it is first,” Raleigh pointed out. 

Chuck wasn’t surprised when Yancy scoffed with him. 

“It’s called being prepared, Rals,” he teased. 

“What if we pick out a whole name and look at the baby and go, ‘wow we were way off’.”

“Then we rename the kid,” Yancy replied with a half shrug. 

“Should we start lists and exchange them?” the younger Becket mused aloud. 

Chuck laughed softly. 

“What?” the brothers responded in kind. 

“A week ago we were arguing over how much lube we really needed to fit you both up my ass. Now we’re arguing baby names.”

“We have fallen into the domestic trap,” Yancy deadpanned. “There’s no saving us.” 

Chuck kissed him, then turned to kiss Raleigh as well. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Jazmine was not the healthy glow and roses type of pregnant. Unfortunately for all of them, her morning sickness started early and held fast. After the first two weeks, there wasn’t a toilet, waste basket or corner she hadn’t thrown up in. After the first two months, she’d thrown up on all of them at least once, including her dragonling. It had matured enough that it was now large enough to ride, but it spent a great deal of its time walking around with Jazmine laying on its back, moaning. She felt better in close proximity to it, which Chuck suspected had a lot more to do with the bond they shared than the rocking motion of its gait - not that he was an expert, nor willing to argue the point with her. Their dragonling was still too young to draw pain from Jazmine, but as the baby was Chuck’s it’s blood called to Striker and Lucky. They shared Jazmine’s discomfort and preferred her to remain with them where they could watch over her. Which meant most of Jaz’s day was spent face up on the back of her dragonling, being walked around in wide circles about the Dragon bays. 

Mako, in comparison, seemed not to get sick at all. She had some mild nausea, but they only ever heard about it from Jaz when she was bemoaning her fate. Mako preferred not to discuss her symptoms - or lack there of. They all began to worry however, when Jaz passed into her second trimester and the morning sickness didn’t abate. She was four months pregnant and cursing Chuck’s entire line - which ruffled Striker and Lucky who had to be soothed over the constant assault of their horde - when she was officially diagnosed with Hyperemesis Gravidarum. Which, as it turned out, she had inherited from her mother. There had been tears, two bathroom breaks and an overturned vase, but she’d stopped cursing Chuck and began cursing her brothers instead. They took it in stride, continuing to help care for her while she began to undergo treatment. 

It took a careful balancing of medical care and exposure to dragons, but eventually Jazmine evened out. She was on a strict diet to keep her condition at bay, but doctors assured both she and the baby were healthy and that everything was progressing fine. They suspected that by the time her dragonling was fully mature, should she decide to carry again, it would be able to stabilize her enough, should the condition arise. As it stood, however, Jaz was in no hurry to get pregnant ever again. 

“Do you want to know what you’re having?” she asked them one afternoon, waltzing up to their table in the canteen. Her dragonling was too large to follow her through the halls any longer and could be heard calling for her when she was too long from its presence. They could hear it caterwauling in the distance. Most likely, having shoved its head through the bay doors, long neck stretching out into the thoroughfare. 

“Your dragon’s crying,” Raleigh pointed out unnecessarily. 

“Baby’ll be fine. I’ll go over there in a minute.” She waved a small scrap of smooth paper at them. “Do you want to know?” she sang. 

They looked at one another. They’d discussed it, but they still hadn’t decided whether or not they wanted to be entirely surprised. Yancy - with an elder sibling’s experience, and having struggled to raise both Raleigh and Jazmine for a while on his own - wanted to know as soon as Jaz did, so they could start preparing. Raleigh - in typical fashion - wanted to be entirely surprised, thriving on the unknown and running a betting pool through the Weis, though Tendo was the banker. Chuck wavered on any given day. Both wanting to be as prepared as possible, and not entirely sure he could handle it if the baby turned out to be a girl, or was in fact not a girl. He still wasn’t sure which would cause greater damage to his emotional state. 

“I threw up for four months for you assholes!” 

Raleigh and Chuck nodded. Yancy sighed, but smiled at her placatingly. “Yes, Jaz, we’d love to know what the baby is.”

She slapped the sonogram picture on the table, mouth curving when they all leaned in to squint at it, unable to tell either way. Jaz bobbed on her toes in great delight, leaning forward far enough Chuck felt the urge to get up and support her overwhelm him. “It’s a girl!” 

The world fell away, and yet, it didn’t end. 

“A girl,” he whispered, picking up the picture and bringing it close to look at their baby. 

“Wow, Jaz,” Raleigh cooed, chin over Chuck’s shoulder. “That’s great. Thanks!”

Yancy got up and moved around the table to take his sister in his arms and give her a squeeze - Chuck noticed he discretely straightened her with the motion. He wasn’t the only worrier in their family. “Thank you, Jaz,” he murmured into her hair. 

She hugged him back, tight and solemn, balancing on her toes so her belly wouldn’t press into his groin. Then she slapped him on the back with both hands. “You better name this baby good, Dadoo!” She leaned back in his arms and waved a finger at him. “Or we’re gonna have words!” 

“Well,” Raleigh sighed. “There goes the pool.”

As usual, Jazmine’s enthusiasm had carried, and news was traveling fast. She grinned at them and with a wave, sauntered off to go rescue her dragonling. 

Mako, as it turned out, was having a boy. Jaz made a joke about swapping babies with them, and accidentally hurt Mako’s feelings. He’d never seen her cry before, and he guessed neither had anyone else. Because they all stood there dumbfounded and unhelpful while Mako bowed shakily, excused herself, and hurried off. 

“Mako!” Jaz cried. “Honey! No! I was joking! Mako!!” 

“We probably shouldn’t ever let them get pregnant at the same time again,” Raleigh commented, as Jazmine hurried after her partner. Her gait hindered by the care she had to take for the feet she was starting to lose sight of. 

Chuck and Yancy nodded. 

Tamsin was the one who fixed things between the pregnant lovers, taking her daughter aside to speak quietly to her in soft Japanese. By the time Jaz caught up with them, she was out of breath, with a stitch in her side, and Chuck had to ask his dad to interfere before Stacker caught wind of what was going on. He could be as protective as a dragon when it came to his daughter, and it was the last thing anyone needed given the situation. Tamsin ended up with two crying pregnant women to console, but they came out of it just fine. The three of them meeting everyone for dinner, Mako and Jazmine as in love as you please, by the time they sat down. 

Their dragonling had at first, wavered on a gender, and it seemed as if it wasn’t quite sure whether it actually wanted to be female or not. Jazmine and Mako reminded it it could choose whatever it wanted, and it spent days moping around the bays, asking all the other dragons how and why they’d chosen the gender they had. Chuck had had to endure the vast amusement present in the company who sat to hear Striker’s telling. He pointedly reminded his lovers, that he could always change his mind about them, which had the unfortunate side effect of the dragons overhearing. And he’d had to endure hours of their arguments about why he shouldn’t give up on Yancy and Raleigh, who - the assholes - had managed to somehow remain straight faced, nodding in agreement the entire time. Chuck had gotten them back by tying them up and delaying their orgasms until they begged for them, but no one had really been affected by his comment - minus the dragons. 

In a show of good faith - and because they were going to do it anyway - they moved up the wedding and held it as a private ceremony in the Dragon bays. The formalized union meant something quite different to the dragons, and at first Chuck didn’t understand why they were so solemn through the whole affair. It wasn’t until after, in honoring the dragon way, that they looked at one another through dragon sight and couldn’t seem to tell the difference between themselves that it all made sense. 

“So when you said, soul-bound, you literally meant-”

His statement was greeted by the turning of dragon heads, which he had come to recognize as ‘Duh!’. 

_Congratulations,_ Lucky said, dipping her head. She turned to look at Striker, Gipsy, Coyote and the dragonling. _Long may their line be._

All five craned their heads back in tandem and released the most thunderous roars Chuck had ever experienced. The walls of the Shatterdome vibrated with the sound, amplifying and echoing it as it was released into the sky. A moment later all the other dragons in the bays roared back, and then they all began to roar quite happily, until Chuck began to feel a distinct concern for the foundation. 

“This is going to take some getting used to,” Raleigh said, looking at his hands. 

“You can say that again, kiddo.”

“Hey, I’m your husband now! You can’t call me kiddo anymore!”

“Of course I can,” Yancy replied, throwing an arm about his shoulders and dragging him close. “You like it too much to let me stop,” he added with a sly smirk. 

Raleigh laughed and kissed him. 

“Dad,” Chuck said, looking up to catch the older man’s gaze. “Uncle Scott...you have to do this!”

“I don’t think-”

“Mom would want you to,” he told him. “Look at me. Before you say anything, look at me through Striker or Lucky. Just...trust me.” 

His father closed his eyes, exhaling softly. When he opened them again, he blinked widely, then turned to look at Chuck’s spouses who were indulging in a bit of making out, under the line of dragons. He blinked again, then turned to look at him, reaching out almost tentatively for his son. Chuck smiled and took his hand, squeezing it gently. 

A moment later, Uncle Scott swore softly. 

“Cool, innit?” Chuck asked him. 

“Stacker, we’re getting married,” his Uncle said. 

The Marshall wandered over, sliding his arms around his lovers in a display that for once was not the slightest bit discrete. Chuck found, for the first time, it warmed him, rather than made him uncomfortable. “Gonna make honest men out of them, Stacker?” he asked, drawing all the power of his dragon into the question. 

Stacker’s head cocked minutely as he studied him, then he nodded once. 

“Good man,” Chuck replied. The moment was promptly ruined by Jaz who wanted to take a picture with him, showcasing the fact that their daughter had been present at their wedding. She found it marvelously funny that she was the one knocked up, but her brothers had been the ones to get married. There was mention of shotguns as she took Chuck’s arm - which he later had to ask his husbands about. His uncle had managed to make the connection, because as they took the picture, he called out, “Whose daddy has th’ knife?” 

It had the desired effect. The photo a perfect capture of Chuck straight backed, wide eyed and open mouthed and Jaz, one leg thrown across him, belly against his as she dangled from his arm laughing hysterically. Mako took one look at the picture and forwarded a copy to herself. 

There was time for a honeymoon, but they decided not to take one. Jaz and Mako were both pretty far along, they couldn’t take their dragons, and they were quite frankly, sick to death of the attempts for ‘exclusive’ interviews. So it brought them great pleasure to remain holed up in the Shatterdome, while word spread of a joint filed marriage licence. 

They’d remained in Hong Kong at first out of necessity, with Jaegers needing time to heal before any serious moves could be undertaken. As time went on, however, it simply became home. Hong Kong was one of the more open ports, and they cared very little about what actually happened within the Shatterdome, as long as dragon patrols continued. So, once a week, they geared up, strapped in, and headed out to fly the coastline. The populace was grateful, even if there was very little need for Jaegers any more. The walls which the United Nations had pushed so hard for had come down under a single category IV Kaiju in less than an hour. The people had lost faith in most of the governments plans, and riots only quieted under the peaceful banner of the PPDC Jaegers flying overhead. The dragons took great pride in the runs, even if some people considered them a waste. They felt appreciated, and honored, and they would willingly remain out for long stretches of time, sometimes goading their own Rangers to further distances than they’d been assigned. 

Because they could never be assured that the Kaiju would remain trapped in their now sealed universe, life in the PPDC continued as if the Kaiju had never been vanquished. The urgency was gone, and they were able to concentrate more carefully on the applicants to the program. But several Ranger classes had graduated before the Breach had been sealed. Remaining in the wings of Shatterdomes across the world, raising their dragons, and waiting to be deployed. Which was how on a lovely spring afternoon they first met Gunnar and Vic Tunari and their newly fully matured - surprisingly male - dragon Canini Tarantella, who as it so happened, had been hatched from Coyote Tango during her stint in the breeding program. 

Chuck was in the Dragon Bay, rubbing down Striker when they arrived. Striker, who had never had to contend with another male for space, came instantly to alert, wings flaring wide and head raised to it’s highest point, which still meant he was craning his neck somewhat due to the ceiling. Canini paused, younger, and smaller, and flared his own wings in challenge. Striker had the advantage, but Chuck wasn’t about to become involved in a dragon pissing contest, even if Striker did have the instinctual response for having been the only male in a bay of females, many of whom he was related to through Ranger bonds, including Lucky - a maternal figure, Gipsy, his mate, and their dragonling, who at nearly three, still had not chosen a gender, and was beginning to alarm several crew members with it’s indecision. 

“Oi!” he called, pressing the heel of his boot into one of the tendons they used to steer while riding. Striker responded, body swaying in that direction. It unbalanced him, and he had to fold his wings back in to keep from stumbling. “Behave!” He’d never thought he’d ever need to tell Striker as much. Even as a dragonling, Striker was impeccably well mannered, polite, and had fantastic social graces. First time for everything, he thought, as he wandered over Striker’s shoulder and jumped. It further forced Striker to mind him, as he’d jumped freely into thin air, and his dragon had to extend a foreleg for Chuck to slide smoothly down to the floor if only to keep him from grievous injury. 

Canini’s Rangers likewise, made the descent, using the dragon’s tail, in lieu of the neck he refused to lower. “Chuck Hansen,” he greeted, as he wandered over, arm extended. “Welcome t’ Hong Kong!” 

“Gunnar,” said the taller pilot to his left. 

“Vic,” the other added, also shaking his hand. 

“Tunari,” Gunnar finished for both.

"Any relation?" Chuck asked, with the hint of a grin. It was clear they were, and in their profession, most of the human two-thirds of a Jaeger team were related in some way. Whether through genetics, bonds, or some combination therein. Their looks aside, it was common courtesy to ask.

"We're brothers," Gunnar clarified. 

"Lot of that going around."

"If it ain't broke," Vic quoted, with a smile.

“True enough. Either way, nice t’ meet you,” Chuck replied. “And this?”

“This…” Gunnar said, stepping back to nudge the dragon with his boot. “Is Canini Tarantella. Of Coyote Tango and Horizon Brave.”

Chuck whistled. “I don’t think Striker’s gonna let me speak t’ him.” 

“Are male dragons that uncommon?” asked Vic. 

“In th’ PPDC, after the first wave, yeah, they really are. Hang on a minute.” He clambered up onto the nearest post and cupped his hands about his mouth. “Lucky! Lucky, y’ in here? I need help talkin’ t’ someone!” 

“Isn’t Striker your dragon?” Gunnar asked. 

“Yeah, Striker Eureka,” Chuck replied, waving down Lucky. 

Striker gave a low growl of disapproval that deepened as she got closer. 

“Holy shit,” Vic swore, suddenly pointing at him. “Chuck Hansen. THE Chuck Hansen. The first of the Legacies!” 

“Yeah, that’s me.” He turned around, putting both hands in his pockets and rocking slightly - precariously some might say - atop the post, facing Canini again. “Let’s try this again. Hello! Welcome t’ Hong Kong, mate.”

Canini tilted his head, then leveled his gaze. _I appreciate your greeting, Ranger Hansen,_ he replied. 

Chuck grinned. “We’re all friends here, Canini. Call me Chuck.”

 _Chuck,_ the dragon corrected, still eying Striker. 

Striker who hissed when Lucky snapped at him. He quieted down however, though he did not take his eyes off of the other male. 

“What brings you lot to Hong Kong?” he asked. 

“We received several offers, but Canini wanted to meet his mother, and…”

“We thought he should be allowed to do that first. Especially as there’re no more Kaiju to fight.”

“Bite your tongue,” Chuck replied, startling both. “I died during that mission, and I’m none too keen on having to go on a similar one any time soon. After all-”

 _CHUCK!!!_ cried the dragonling, scrambling across the bay. _Chuck, something is wrong! I can feel-_

“CHUCK!!!” screeched Jaz over the comms. “IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR DAUGHTER BORN YOU GET YOUR ASS UP HERE RIGHT NOW!!! I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GOING TO BREAK YOUR HAND FOR THIS!!!” 

“How th’ _hell_ does she keep managing that?” he gaped, as Lucky nosed him eagerly. 

_No time!_ she chided. _Go! Our baby is coming!_

“You’ve got this?” he asked her, not wanting to leave Lucky and the Tunaris alone with a hostile Striker. 

_I am older,_ she reminded him, tipping him over so he had to step on her nose or fall. He rode her head to her neck, and slid down onto her back. “Really sorry, blokes,” he called out. “But, she really will kill me if I miss this!”

As if to emphasize his point, Jaz could be heard screaming his name as they passed the bays toward medical. 

He gave them a quick wave and took Lucky’s tail in one fluid motion, leaping a short distance, as she flicked the end, so he wouldn’t lose momentum. As he hit the ground running, he heard Vic say to Gunnar, “Did you _see_ that? Think we can learn that?” 

“We are parents,” Raleigh said, still in awe as they looked down at their daughter. Angela Dominique Becket-Hansen was small and pink with a puff of hair atop her head that didn’t seem to know what color it quite wanted to be yet. 

“We should take her to see them,” Chuck said, still staring down at their daughter in his arms. “No one’s mentioned anyone dying, so I guess the Tunaris survived, but we should probably check anyway. Besides…” He looked up at his husbands. “We have a legacy to introduce.”

The dragons crowded around them as soon as they entered the bays, heads lowering eagerly to touch and scent her, to welcome her into their horde. 

“Guys,” Chuck said, bouncing slightly, “We’d like you to meet Angela Dominique Becket-Hansen, of Jazmine Becket and myself.” 

If dragons could cry, he was fairly certain, they’d have been waist deep in salt water in no time. As it was, they were herded into Striker’s pen, where the family had gathered, all five dragons sharing in the delight of the expansion of their horde. The rest of the family - of the human persuasion - found them there later, having wandered out after them, when the trip to medical proved fruitless. 

“Hey Granddad,” Chuck greeted his father, as he stepped close. “Someone here’s been waiting to meet you.”

His father lowered himself until he was on his knees, and took the baby from him as she was offered. “Hello beautiful,” he murmured, tucking her close. “What’d y’ name her?”

“Angela,” Yancy said, wrapping his arms around Chuck and Raleigh. 

Herc paused, going slack for a moment. 

“Angela Dominique Becket-Hansen,” his eldest husband continued. 

“Quite a mouthful,” Scott said, settling down beside his brother. He slipped one arm around his waist, the other moving to support the hold of his brother’s granddaughter. 

Herc swallowed several times and looked down at the baby in his arms. He tried to keep the tears from falling on her, but if any did, she didn’t seem to mind them. 

“We probably shouldn’t raise our daughter in a dragon pen,” Raleigh pointed out, several days later, when they were still amongst them, surrounded by their content dragons. 

“Didn’t seem to hurt Chuck any,” Yancy teased.

“Chuck was already a kid when he started.”

Chuck sighed, stretching out his legs, Angela asleep in his arms. “That was the life.”

 _Chuck was very fortunate to be raised among dragons,_ Gipsy commented.

“You _would_ agree,” Raleigh teased her. 

“Congratulations, by the way,” came a voice from beyond the posts. “We’ve been wanting to extend ours, and Canini’s for a while now, but we were told it was best to let everyone settle first.”

“Including ourselves,” said Vic, leaning forward slightly with a grin. 

“Hey, Tunaris,” Chuck greeted. “Glad t’ see you’re still alive.” 

They laughed as Yancy helped him up. 

“Wanna see her?” 

“We’d love to.”

“Thanks.”

Chuck wandered over, Yancy and Raleigh flanking him on either side, and several dragon heads following along behind them. He paused against the post, leaning into one casually and turning so they could see their little gem. 

“She’s beautiful, Chuck,” Vic said, folding both arms over the post and leaning in to look at her more closely. 

“What a blessing,” Gunnar added. 

“Thank you. Gunnar, Vic, these are my husbands, Yancy and Raleigh Becket.”

Vic’s brows rose. “So...the woman…?”

“Our sister,” Raleigh said, reaching out to shake their hands. 

“And surrogate,” Yancy added, doing similarly. 

“Ah,” the Tunaris replied in understanding. 

“Our congratulations then, to you as well,” said Gunnar. 

“And Canini’s.” 

“Thank you,” the Beckets responded. 

“Rangers Becket to medical. Rangers Becket to medical.”

“You don’t think…” Yancy said, meeting Raleigh’s sideways gaze. 

It was a moment before they both made hasty excuses and pelted out. 

_The other baby is coming,_ Jaz and Mako’s dragonling explained, coming over to the group. 

“Other baby?” Gunnar asked, confused. 

“They helped us have one, we helped them have one of their own,” Chuck explained. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another birth to attend.” 

“By all means,” Vic replied, arm out. 

Chuck smiled as he passed them. 

Van Masao Mori-Becket was as reserved as his mother when he greeted the world. Smaller than his cousin, he was no less eager in his regard to life. And there were hints, every now and again, that he had inherited more than just the Becket eye color. Sometimes, they thought he was Yancy’s due to his quiet nature and others Raleigh’s when he was extra boisterous. But they had never ordered a paternity test, as none of those involved cared to know the truth of his siring. 

As they grew, Angela and Van became the treasure to all within the Shatterdome, that they had been to the dragons from the start. One day, as they were playing together in the pen under the watchful eye of their mothers’ dragon, while Chuck saw to Striker’s comfort, they were privy to a moment Chuck had never witnessed from the outside. 

Gunnar and Vic had paused, mid stride to the flightsuit room. Their eyes wide and unmoving. Chuck followed their gaze to find - of all people - Tamsin across the bay. “Tamsin!” he called, and she looked up, pausing herself when she noticed she was being watched. She blinked once, exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she sucked in a deep breath. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Chuck commented to himself, leaning into one of the posts. “Well kiddies, looks like Grandma will be happy after all.” 

Van and Angela just screeched at him and continued throwing straw at one another. 

Tamsin became a Tunari quicker than her own partner made it to the altar. She was beautiful and radiant, and for the first time since Chuck had met her years ago, she looked young and happy. 

Mako and Jazmine had married not long after their dragon had chosen a gender. They had not been surprised one bit, when they glowed upon looking at one another, and had promptly made it official. As far as Chuck knew, the only other Rangers who had been similarly unsurprised had been the Gages and the Kaidanovskys. And in the history of the program, their’s was only the third such case. Not that Jaz could be convinced that made it any less impressive or important. 

The unease of having two male dragons in the Shatterdome had settled when Baby had gendered male as well. And while he had a perfectly acceptable name - Kaiten Sierra - everyone still called him Baby, thanks to years of Jaz’s blatant flouting of dragon rearing. He didn’t seem to mind however, and actually responded to it so often, they had stopped introducing him to new crew by his designation and simply referred to him as Baby. They got a great kick out of it when paperwork went wonky due to the fact that no one managed to make the mental connection that Baby was Kaiten - all except Stacker of course, who spent hours chewing out crew and officers alike for not managing to keep something as simple as their own assigned dragon’s name correct on official documentation. 

There was talk of moving, but it never seemed to pan out properly. Chuck couldn’t quite place it, and perhaps it had a lot to do with Stacker’s own personal agenda, but every time rumors cropped up about a possible ‘Dome shift, it never actually occurred. He never particularly cared, so he never got around to asking. He was with his family, where his child could have access to all the motherly care of her family, and he and his husbands could remain near for the support of Jaz and Mako’s son, who was often in trouble, though to be fair, Angela tended to mostly get him _into_ it. Four years passed before Stacker made good on his word and married the Hansen brothers. Angela and Van in the actual marriage party as the first official flower girl and ring bearer the ‘Dome had ever seen in a wedding ceremony. They’d skipped a honeymoon as well, citing work as a need to stay on, even though they were all well aware their children could handle any work they left for as long as they had need of time away. Chuck suspected they _knew_ that and didn’t want to give anyone any room to consider prodding them for retirement - though they were still young. 

The official move came only months later, when the call for breeding dragons meant Baby had to report to Alaska. Angela rode on Striker with them, in a modified suit, strapped to Chuck, and shrieking in delight for the first hour. She soon fell asleep, and he had to adjust her for her own comfort. They paused twice, to switch around passengers. Van was riding with Jaz and Mako, and Angela wanted to ride Gipsy with her blonder parents. So Angela ended up strapped to Raleigh, and Chuck and his father offered to take Van for Mako and Jaz as an equal change up. As they were making the trip together - all rotations occurring in groups of threes and fours - it was easy to change it up, and by the end of the trip, each child had ridden a third of the way - even if they’d slept for a great deal of it - upon each dragon. Which meant by the end of the trip, Chuck, Raleigh and Jazmine had equally sore legs from bracing their children, and protecting them from wind currents. 

Ironically, they’d travelled five thousand twenty-two miles, for Baby to end up mating with Romeo, who had been a group behind them in the transfer. The egg was - to Angela and Van - a grand adventure, and because they were Legacies, Baby encouraged their interest in it. Having been a second generation PPDC dragon himself, Baby took great interest in the egg, and seemed to revert to his dragon roots, nesting and caring for it, while Romeo - being an older, once wilder dragon - took long coastal patrols, sharp eyes ever fixed out toward the ocean. 

Angela and Van preferred being out in the dragon pens to anything resembling schoolwork, though they were both intelligent, exceptionally perceptive children who grasped concepts easily for their tender ages. But being back in the states meant a more structured system, and they were forced to attend pre-school, and later kindergarten, with other children their age. Their formative years having predisposed them to one another meant they had difficulty making friends, though they were friendly enough. There was just something about other children that seemed to agitate them. 

“They’re just stupid,” Angela complained one day.

“Hey,” Yancy scolded, he had half of her long strawberry blonde hair curled in his palm, a brush in his other hand. He looked intimidating even to Chuck who knew he would never harm her. There was just something about the image of a child with their hair caught that rankled him. He didn’t know why. “What did we tell you about using that word?”

“Sorry,” she pouted, gaze lowering so she was looking up at him through ungodly long eyelashes Chuck had no idea as to the origin of. “But, Papa!”

“No, but Papa. You do not hurt other people’s feelings by calling them names. Even when they’re not around to hear it. Do I make myself clear? Angela Dominique.”

“Oui, Papa,” she replied miserably, eyes downcast. 

“Yancy,” Chuck said, throat tight. 

Yancy looked up, as did their daughter, and Chuck made a helpless motion toward her hair. His husband looked down with a frown at where their daughter’s hair was held in a steady grip. He wasn’t holding it any tighter than he had been when he was brushing it, but he seemed to recognize it was causing Chuck distress, and he released it immediately. 

Angela sniffed, head tilting up to look at him. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. Papa’s hand slipped.” 

She took it in stride, sitting still again while Yancy brushed it out, eyes on Chuck. Raleigh walked in to find them in a silent stand off, and wrapped both arms around Chuck, drawing him close and kissing his temple. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, distracting him long enough for Yancy to finish off Angela’s hair out of Chuck’s line of sight. 

Chuck shook his head, rubbing Raleigh’s side to hopefully convey he was all right. Raleigh hesitated a moment before letting him go, having no choice, as Angela ran up to him with a delighted, “Daddy!” He turned to scoop her up, bouncing her once in his arms and kissing her cheek noisily as Yancy traded off, following Chuck into the kitchen. 

“You know I’d never hurt her,” he said, pausing by the counter to give Chuck the room he felt he needed. 

Chuck went to him, to reassure him. “I know,” he replied, wrapping his arms about him and kissing him gently. “I just…” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it.” 

“I can,” Yancy replied, kissing him against the opposite temple Raleigh had graced. “You can’t stand to see a kid trapped. You can’t explain it, because you don’t remember your time in the fissure, but you still get that knotted up feeling inside when it looks like a kid can’t get out of a situation - regardless of whether or not it was by their own choosing.”

Chuck stared at him in surprise. 

Yancy shrugged and smoothed his hair back, before kissing him once sweetly. “Rals and I noticed.”

“When?”

“When we first put Angela in a play pen and you just about had an attack. You never liked the crib. You pick her up every time she screams. You’re not spoiling her, Chuck, you’re protecting her. It’s all right, we understand.” 

“I hadn’t...I never…”

“We know. And we didn’t want to tell you, because…” He sighed. “You were doing so well. We were happy. We just thought, if we could keep on top of it...I’m sorry, sweetheart. I should have noti-” His lips pressed a kiss to Chuck’s fingers above them. 

“Don’t apologize, Yancy. I should be apologizing. Hell, I mean...what the hell is wrong with me that I-”

“Stop,” Yancy countered, his voice slightly muffled by Chuck’s fingers over his lips. He’d pressed his own over Chuck’s lips and it occurred to him they probably made an interesting sight. It almost brought a smile to his face. Almost. 

Yancy reached up and freed his fingers from over his lips with the hand he’d been using to pause Chuck’s own speaking. He squeezed it gently, lowering their hands to chest height. Chuck realized by the glinting of metal it was their left. The symbol of their unified happiness eased something tight in his chest. 

“Don’t apologize. There’s nothing to apologize for. And there’s nothing wrong with you,” he added quickly as Chuck opened his mouth to speak. “Sometimes we hold on to things. We can’t even explain them to ourselves. But, we’ve all seen our fair share of trauma, and I think it’s safe to say there will always be situations where we need to give one another leeway and others where we’ll need to support one another. For better or for worse, Chuck. No matter what comes our way.” 

Chuck smiled and kissed him, wrapping both arms around him and groaning softly into his mouth. Sometimes, he loved them so much he felt like he just might burst with it. 

“Are they being smoochy?” Raleigh said loudly. 

“Yeah,” Angela replied, in what she clearly thought was a conspiratory tone, but was nearly as loud as Raleigh’s own grab for their attention. 

“Sheesh. What are we going to do about them.”

“You might want to run, before we drag you into this,” Yancy replied, lips parting from Chuck’s with a soft sound. 

Raleigh dropped to his knees and set Angela down. “Run baby girl! I’ll distract them. I may get the cooties but it’ll be worth it if it saves you!” 

She giggled and hurried off. 

“The cooties?” Chuck replied, one eyebrow arched. 

Raleigh got up and trotted over to them. “My daughter is kissing NO ONE until she’s thirty-five.”

Chuck snorted.

“Come here you,” Yancy replied, drawing him close.

“Help. Help. The cooties,” Raleigh deadpanned in a low voice. 

“I’ll give you cooties,” Yancy countered, tugging him close and blowing a raspberry against his neck. 

Raleigh squealed. 

“I’m married to this,” Chuck told the ceiling. 

“And don’t you forget it!” Raleigh remarked and tugged him close to do the same. 

The Breach may have been closed, but it didn’t affect their status. Every so often Yancy would groan and complain about being too old to be in the saddle for hours on end. Raleigh and Chuck took it upon themselves to remind him how young he remained, and just how much they appreciated every moment he spent honing his body atop Gipsy’s back. It didn’t keep him from getting an Academy job. One which soon sucked in the whole family. Chuck couldn’t exactly recall _how_ he’d ended up teaching Advanced Dragonology, but he had to admit, he enjoyed every moment. Raleigh taught Tactics. And Yancy, for all he complained, was an aerial combat instructor. Occasionally they’d marshal the dragons to run maneuvers to show the cadets what they truly looked like. And every time, the adrenaline surged in Chuck’s veins, his body prepped and ready, and no enemy in sight. It made it difficult to come down from, and they spent a lot of afternoons working off the frustration of being battle ready with no opponent, before one of them went to pick up Angela from school. 

Because cadets were still graduating, and the dragons still breeding for the cause, they were forced to attend the graduations. In full military uniform. Chuck planned to get Yancy back for getting them into that particular mess as soon as he could think of something suitably equivalent. 

As they did every year, all students of every age group attended, with the children sitting at the front to better view - and hopefully be lured into the program - the process. Which meant as kindergarteners, Angela and Van were in the front row when the eggs began hatching. So, it was no surprise really, when Baby’s egg hatched, scanned the candidates, and promptly turned it’s back on them all, clamoring toward the bleachers. 

Angela squealed in delight as it stopped at her feet and craned its small neck, damp foreclaws closing about her knees as it nuzzled her. She wrapped both arms enthusiastically around it. Chuck sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He’d warned them. He’d said. Had anyone listened? 

Uncle Scott laughed loudly. And while his elder brother nudged him to rein it in, he was grinning broadly. The Marshall, likewise, looked distinctly smug. Yancy groaned. Raleigh snorted. He leaned across the distance as it climbed up into Angela’s lap, reaching out to lick Van across the cheek. “What are the odds we get stuck with another lightning dragon?” he asked gleefully. 

“Aw Christ,” Yancy groaned, mimicking Chuck’s earlier pose, hand dragging across his face more slowly, as if he could undo the sight before him by simply not looking. He heaved a sigh. “I didn’t want this for her,” he mumbled into his own skin. 

“She’s wanted her own dragon since she was old enough to understand what one was,” Raleigh commented. “We were always headed toward this. It just happened sooner than we expected.”

“I SAID!” Chuck snapped loudly. “When Jaz offered to carry her, I said! We bleeding signed up for this the moment we said, alright, let’s make a baby!”

Several cadets were looking at them, and Chuck cleared his throat, dropping his spread arms, which had been extended as if showcasing the view before them would make his point any more clear. 

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, that’s Gipsy’s granddragonling alright!” Raleigh cried, suddenly leaping off the dais and running for the pair of children happily cuddling their newly hatched dragonling. He scooped it up swiftly and held it above his head. It gave a hiccup, wings flaring and sparks traveled the length of Raleigh’s dress jacket, sending his hair upright. 

“You weren’t bloody kidding!” Chuck gasped, looking to Yancy wide eyed. 

“Well…” Yancy sighed. “There go the carpets.” He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and began scribbling. Every so often Chuck could hear him mumble something to himself. “Chair. Comforter. Electric toothbrush. Treadmill.”

“How much is this going to impact our quality of life?” Chuck asked seriously, eyes widening when he looked over the list. 

“That depends,” Yancy replied, as Angela burst into giggles, poking Raleigh’s static cling dress jacket, and cuddling the dragonling in one arm. “How happy were you living out in the pens all those years?” 

There were days Chuck wondered if it has all been worth it. The loss of his mother, the way he never looked back. The two nights spent unconscious, buried alive in a fissure, wrapped around a dragon egg. Days he looked back and wondered, what if? What if the Kaiju never attacked? What if his mother had never died? Would he have ended up as happy as he was? Or would he have followed in her projected footsteps, all cold nights alone in the dark, and overheating in the thick brush, trying to observe the dragons in their natural habitat while not disturbing them. 

There were nights he dreamed of her. Of being held in her arms, safe and secure. Danced around a sunny kitchen. Of the view from their home, and the wrap around they never locked. He could feel her hands on his face, the push of his backpack, heavy with a dragon egg. The tight embrace he’d never wanted to leave. The clasp of her fingers against his skin as she placed last desperate kisses all over his freckles. 

The trust she’d had in him. In her only chance to save her only child. The way her voice had sounded when she’d told him, “Run.” 

As a parent, he is able to look back on those memories and see the good in them. The love, instead of the heartbreak. The sacrifice no true parent would be able to ignore. Their own life in the place of their child. 

He can see her in Angela. In the way she danced when she was happy, and the loud, joyful, explosive way she laughed. His mother was in the long sweep of her lashes - he’d finally noticed one day. She was in her love of climbing trees and running through puddles barefoot. She was in her spirit. Wild and carefree, and so very giving. 

His mother hadn’t left him. She hadn’t died, not truly. She’d left enough of herself in his very bones that he could see her mirrored in his daughter every day of her life. And it brought a distinct peace he’d never thought he’d find again. 

The love of a parent for their child.

She’d shown him the way. And he was living the reverse, with her good example as his guide.

“We didn’t really need the house,” he said, crossing his legs at the ankles. “It was too much work, if we’re being honest.”

“Uh-huh,” Tendo replied, swiveling in his chair. He leveled his gaze. “So it had absolutely nothing to do with the dragonling exploding your fuse box in a game of hide and seek and nearly setting the house on fire.” 

Chuck threw up his hands. “It’s like a magnet for trouble! Striker was never this bad! Why in the name of all things sacred did Angela have t’ bond with a lightning dragon!”

Tendo laughed and patted his thigh sympathetically. “I hear the insurance money might even be enough you could probably sublet.”

“Fucking bite me, Elvis!” He threw up his arms, standing. “I am gonna spend the rest of my life in Shatterdomes!”

Tendo stood and slapped him against the back. “Well...at least-” They both looked up as the lights flickered and died, LOCCENT going quiet with an eerie sound of being unplugged. 

“OOPS!” Angela’s birdlike voice could be heard carrying through the halls. “We didn’t mean to! We’re sorry! It was a accident!” 

“When are you leaving?”

As they raced out to deal with the damage control, neither noticed Tendo’s console come online, a soft yellow light begin beeping. 

In the cold dark of the Antarctic, below the ice flows, if one looked just right, they might see the shine of bioluminescence against the thick sheets. Of course, it could also be said, Antarctic teams went a little mad out in the snow for so long.


End file.
